


Book 1: Manors and Midnights

by pinkichor



Series: Manors and Midnights [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Blasphemy, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Empath, Empathy, Exorcisms, Fantasy Violence, Firecat Nora, Fucking, Grinding, Hurt/Comfort, Hyungline are the witches, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, Orgy, Poltergeists, Polyamory, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Post-Betrayal, Psychological Trauma, Recovered Memories, Riding, Stress Relief, Unhealthy Relationships, Witch Hunters, Witchcraft, Witches, demonic creatures, idk man just a roller coaster of emotions and the roller coaster doesn't have safety belts, rip maknaeline, slight PTSD, slight gore, some stuff happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-17 18:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 83,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkichor/pseuds/pinkichor
Summary: "Do you do this to save people?""We do it because we have to."Jaebum and his coven are searching for the reincarnation of their fallen king, a corrupted dark witch who could bring the end of days. The boundaries between realms begin to fade and it's obvious the king is close at hand, but when they finally find him, can they accept the consequences?





	1. Scene I

**Author's Note:**

> this thing is really my child and such a gigantic project. it all began with anto at the very beginning of november 2k17 with a single outfit and since then we built up this whole universe until i actually felt like writing it all out. so like the biggest shoutout to her for pioneering the au first and letting me spin it into an endless world of words, and for hopping into the gdoc and fixing my AM grammar mistakes and questioning my word choice and leaving her own sentences where i left off. anto ur the most loyal hoe i ever met. 
> 
> to jay for reading the first bit in its first draft and validating that it was indeed a good au. also the friends who liked my planning posts and moodboards even just because they liked the aesthetics--y'all deserve ribbons. 
> 
> so anyway after a several months long roller coaster ride, i finally present chapter 1 of the self titled Manors and Midnights: Book 1.

They really thought this would be a harmless game, just a joke without any bearing or consequences, and zero outcomes involving something possibly demonic. They only used a  _ pizza box _ ! A greasy, empty, pizza box with the Ouija board layout drawn out in messy handwriting with a half dying sharpie Bambam  _ happened  _ to have in the bottom of his bag. Honestly, it was ridiculous to think anything would come of it. 

But lucky them, something came of it. It wasn’t just a game anymore. Yugyeom tensed in horror when the black shadow arose after it made the tiny plastic center table from the pizza cover the first letter of each of their names, Y-B-Y, then sliding over the  _ goodbye  _ at the bottom. 

They weren’t even really supposed to be here to begin with, but Youngjae said he knew of a great reference building for their creative projects; he broke them into this abandoned motel just off the main streets. And now they were going to  _ die  _ for their crafts and fun made from boredom. Yugyeom didn’t care about discovering ways to repurpose abandoned buildings anymore. They were better off setting this thing on fire and running for the hills, and acting as witnesses when calling the fire department. 

The walls creaked and groaned as the shadow snaked up and around the room, lights from the candles and flashlights vanquished with the light breeze of movement. Youngjae yelled loudly as a constant sound in Yugyeom’s ear. Sure, he’s the tallest of the three, but he was by far the least brave when it came to shadow monsters and demons and restless spirits. He knew he was interested only until he encountered something that proved life existed in other layers of reality. He was more willing to handle an eight-legged over shit that crawled out of the depths of a merciless void. But he didn’t shake his yelling friend off his arm and he tried to keep Bambam behind his other, stretching it out across his chest as a barrier to keep him back. 

Bambam hung over Yugyeom’s arm like there was no other way past it, waving his own arms and screeching dangerously high and foul at the shadow dancing it’s way to their toes. “I don’t think that’s helping!” Youngjae screamed. They all took a step back and back and back until they hit a corner of the room. Bambam scrambled his pockets for his phone. 

“By the box,” Yugyeom whispered through his teeth and jerked his head until Bambam saw the glass screen too far away to reach, sighing because they were as good as dead. 

Bambam had even taken photos to post later on  Instagram. 

He declared he was going to delete Instagram off his phone forever if they survived this. “C’mon, Gyeomie,” Bambam elbowed his tall friend. “Don’t you have like an unofficial degree in this stuff?” 

Yugyeom’s breaths came too fast. He was falling and failing and he had knowledge, but zero skill to  _ fight  _ something he had only read in witness accounts and myths in journals and books and yellow tabloids. He’d experienced some things that were not normal, but nothing of this level that wanted to  _ devour  _ their  _ souls _ . “Think kicking it will work?” Yugyeom panicked, but not leaving his post and standing firm in front-guarding his friends. 

“Maybe if we sidle around to the door—” Youngjae tried to suggest when he noticed the shadow looming and encompassing more of the room in a blacker dark than before, almost warning them there was no escape. “Okay, nevermind. Next plan,” Youngjae backtracked. 

And this time, the shadow formed into the vague shape of a claw, an open void of a mouth where a palm would have been. Youngjae and Bambam hunkered down and Yugyeom shrieked, just in case the sound would alarm the shadow into leaving them alone. 

The claw made it obvious it  was coming for them one way or another, and Yugyeom mourned that he never had enough time to research more of his curiosities, or fumble awkwardly in the driver’s seat of a car or get to kiss his best friend at graduation because they wouldn’t  _ get  _ to graduate. They’d meet in hell where all devoured souls go, but instead of a position of false freedom, Yugyeom would be deservedly locked up and tortured for not protecting his friends. 

This was a terrible way to die, and not at all how he had dreamt of it happening. 

 

~*~

 

Jackson sighed, bored and tired. “Why’re we even  _ out  _ here? There’s nothing! There has been  _ nothing _ .” 

“You know why,” Jinyoung rolled his eyes at his blonde friend. “If that area is where we came out, maybe it’s where we go back in.” But the way the words rolled out, more out of habit and routine, sounded hopeless. 

“Yeah, and  it’s been  _ centuries _ .” Centuries since they had watched their realm fall; centuries since they were literally kicked and thrown out into this one to find the balance once more and put everything right. Jinyoung kept saying criminals always returned to the scene of the crime, but this was different. 

_ Witches  _ were different. 

Jinyoung didn’t respond to Jackson, but somewhere within the silence their hands folded around each other as they simply watched Jaebum and Mark heading their search. Mark was the one who brought them out again in the first place, saying his right knee ached and went numb and he had a  _ feeling _ . He had a lot of those  _ feelings _ , and most of the time, they’d been scarily accurate, so Jaebum heeded every word. 

The four of them ducked under branches and dodged webs, cooing back to birds when they flew the nest at their arrivals; the witches were lulling them back to safety and home. 

They eventually found their way back to a narrow, one lane dirt road that obviously hadn’t been used publicly in ages. There was an open field on the other side with rusting, ancient farm trucks and deteriorating sheds, noticeable even in the dark. Mark crossed first, roaming his flashlight steadily along the sinking marshland. A light fog dusted over where dead, amber grass used to thrive as lush green, coloring the dark purple sky above as ominous and heavy. 

Mark did not like this one bit. Jaebum’s flashlight was snapping left, sighting the remnants of an old building, the business likely closed and abandoned when highways and four lane roads took over, the even more industrial world disconnecting from soft country roads and privately-owned businesses. Jaebum thought it strange that it was the only mostly whole complex left standing, assuming maybe it was on some kind of old pit stop. Jaebum imagined there would have been a small-town café and general store on this strip, too, but he would find the reason for its whole existence if they followed the screeching that echoed into their path. 

“I hate when Mark’s right,” Jackson sighed. 

Mark punched his shoulder. “Me being right has kept your ass alive for, like, a millenia.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” because he had heard it before and he’d certainly hear it again. 

They ran towards the old motel, concentration locked and ready. They went in, flashlights poised to double as weapons just in case. Jackson whispered a quick spell and held his palm out to blow in the front door; he accidentally blew in  _ all  _ the doors. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, nervously pulling at his hair. 

The screams heightened. 

Jaebum didn’t even bother to waste a breath, already used to Jackson’s energy. He focused on leading them down the hall and into Room 107 where the various screeches and pleads originated. He assumed those were ignorant teenagers cowering in the corner before a sinister shadow claw, and he had half a mind to let them die with their stupidity, but Jinyoung would probably undermine him and ignore him for months if he did. Still, he took the scene in quickly: the empty pizza box on the floor with letters haphazardly written on the inside, blown out candles and the stupid tiny white plastic table that came with the pizza. He’d help them live, but that was it. 

“Hey, cheesebrain!” Mark yelled enthusiastically, grabbing the shadow’s attention. 

The tall kid hovering over the other two dropped his jaw. “What are you  _ doing _ ? You’ll die!” 

Jaebum went behind Mark and covered from the corner opposite of him, while Jackson moved into the only unoccupied corner. Jinyoung took his position in front of the three in danger, having the sight advantage from there to make sure no one’s back was turned. 

“We’ve  _ never  _ died, kid,” Jaebum grunted, distracting the summoned shadow with light from his fingers so Jackson could lay down a trap. Mark grabbed Jaebum’s free hand, and when he rose his other one, tiny lightning bolts rained from the ceiling, injuring the shadow creature enough to slow it down. 

“ _ How  _ did he do that?” The scrawny one said. “Gyeom?” He whined weakly, grabbing the arm of the tall boy. 

“Exorcists? Demon hunters?”  _ Gyeom _ racked his brain for anything, voice nearly on the edge of a breakdown. 

“Witches,” Jackson spat out, stressed with harnessing power into his rune tiles and hoping it wouldn’t cave the whole place in. 

Baby-faced, chocolate-hair piped up with something other than a scream. “W-what?” 

“Yes, witches. Now shut  _ up _ ,” Jaebum threatened. They could only hold the electricity for so long and from the way the shadow was writhing once again, it was  _ adapting  _ and  _ absorbing _ the bolting pain. 

“So, do you guys do like rituals in the woods and stuff? What about  _ sacrifices _ ?” Chocolate-hair’s face beamed with intense curiosity. Jinyoung hated how obvious it was that he had read ten too many fantasy books and watched more “historical” tv shows than he should have as a younger teen. 

Jaebum sighed incredulously. He was here to close the damn portal these three kids opened because they thought it would be  _ fun  _ to make their own Ouija board with a fucking  _ pizza box _ . Obviously, there was some sort of mad pizza spirit they summoned from it. And he was here to deal with  _ that _ , not bullshit stereotypical questions. “Tell me why we don’t just  _ leave _ ,” Jaebum tensed, annoyed and completely done with saving humans from their own deadly mistakes. His question and tone were directed at Jinyoung. 

“Do it and you’ll be sleeping somewhere  _ special _ tonight,” Jinyoung warned. 

So, Jaebum let go of Mark’s hand and wielded a new incantation in his head because Jinyoung was going to literally curse him if he didn’t, and he decided answering the self-inflicted victim’s question would be a nice distraction from the buzzing starting in his brain. “The woods are the first place they look for witches. Homes have been around for a while now, so at least _our_ coven hasn’t done anything in the forest in a long time. Besides stupid college parties,” he looked pointedly at Jackson. 

Jackson finished setting his runes on the creaky, decaying floorboards, the offending pizza box in the middle of it all. “Okay, how was I supposed to know Mark hyung and alcohol don’t mix? It was  _ one time _ , hyung! One time!” 

The darkness got worse with the impending entrapment of the shadow. It scurried around and snapped towards them as a last resort of survival. 

Jinyoung held firm as a protective barrier in front of the three boys. “As for sacrifices, enough living beings are killed without our interference these days. Sacrifices used to be mostly animals, and near dead ones at that, just to appease the people. Though, it was also a way for our ancestors abandoned here to be guaranteed food to eat without being burned at the stake.” 

Tall’s voice cracked. “What about when humans  _ were  _ sacrificed?” 

Mark didn’t move from his solitary corner. The shrieking claw of a shadow minimized in size and  raked along his jaw, making way to burrow into his ear. He shrieked back at it, pulling the shadow by it’s wrist. He slammed his palm onto the floorboard inside Jackson’s rune circle, the shadow underneath getting sucked into the portal. He snapped his fingers and the portal and pizza box within the circle disappeared, along with the shadow, the runes vibrating just enough to break the circle apart so the portal couldn’t open again. 

Mark stood up, wiping his palms on his jeans and shrugged. “They probably deserved it.” 

Jinyoung saw all their faces pale, probably expecting their deaths to be next. He pulled them up to their feet and quickly checked them for any marks or injuries the shadow could have imprinted on them. Luckily, they seemed safe. “How’d you even get all the way out here?” 

“A bus on the other side,” Scrawny said. 

“And then we walked through the trees to here,” Chocolate-hair followed. 

Considering the overall quiet that had surrounded them even before finding the shadow, Jinyoung reckoned there wouldn’t be another bus until morning. Mark and Jaebum glanced at him in warning, knowing exactly what he was about to ask, and he asked it anyway even if it meant he would be the one driving. “Need a ride home?” 

“Don’t you guys have like, cool portal magic? Like how you got rid of that thing?” 

Tall hit Scrawny on the shoulder. “Don’t ask that,” he loudly whispered. 

“Let them walk,” Jaebum said with finality, turning and walking out with Mark close behind. 

Jackson collected his runes and exhaled, leaning against the wall to gain back his rhythm now that the intimidating atmosphere settled. “Don’t mind him. He never takes questions well.” 

“Portal magic is a _sensitive_ topic. If you want to get home in one piece, I suggest keeping quiet,” Jinyoung stated apologetically. They’d dealt with other curious clients before, with more ridiculous questions not even worth answering. But it seemed maybe, these kids were different--had read more than just high fantasy novels, but tried to research real accounts and history, even though the truth of it couldn’t actually be found on their limited search engines. 

In a moment of weakness, reasoning they were kids who were likely to make mistakes again, Jinyoung handed them the business card with their service and emergency phone number on it. Better to do it here than in the car for Jaebum to judge before he’d rip the card from their hands and leave their bodies to decompose in the humid marshlands. 

Jinyoung let them walk in front, opting to take Jackson’s arm so he wouldn’t fall and stumble. “You really used that much energy?” He worried cautiously. 

“Didn’t think I had, but we all know what Jaebum hyung can do.” 

Jinyoung nodded. “Yeah, we do.” 

Jaebum’s stresses and frustrations and worries always built up as an extension of his magic. Jinyoung remembered when it used to be far, far worse--magic of destruction instead of protection, but a hint of that darkness still bled through when the lives of kids were on the line. And Jackson’s lack of control over his own power, mixed with Jaebum’s emotional magic, Jinyoung wasn’t as surprised that his friend was exhausted. It was kind of incredible that Jackson was even standing. 

Jinyoung hushed a barrier spell when they exited the building, hoping it would work in place of all the broken doors. Nothing could get out, but nothing would ever go in again _.  _ Eventually, Jinyoung knew the building would be swallowed whole by the energy, falling to ruin just as the rest of this small countryside had. 

The three humans walked between the four witches through the woods and they all crawled into the waiting SUV, Mark being the one to drive with Jaebum in the passenger seat beside him. Jackson and Jinyoung took the middle seats, making the rescued ones sit on the back bench seat. 

They gave two addresses, and Mark mapped the first on his phone, keeping the car silent outside of Siri’s directions and Jackson’s candid introductions. Chocolate-haired was Youngjae, who was set on either becoming a pianist or freelance writer. Scrawny’s name was Bambam, a nickname he preferred over his full Thai name; he was here on an international scholarship program of some sort, trying to capture the wonders of the world in storied videos and journaled monologues, and it was too late for him to sneak back into the dorms, so he planned to sleep at Yugyeom’s, who was the tall one. He was also the youngest with a penchant for late nights and long research sessions. He was trying to align his history and economic classes together, taking past disasters and triumphs to excel in creating and repurposing for a better future. 

Jinyoung thought it was the worst kind of hopeful narrative because for as long as they had been in the human realm, the future always stepped back into the past. But he admired Yugyeom’s passion and tenacity, as Jinyoung was the research worm of his own little coven.  

The young ones had taken Jinyoung’s warning to heart though, and if they asked a question, it was nothing about magic or previous encounters. The time passed quicker that way, Jackson keeping them entertained with Jinyoung slipping into the conversation every now and then with a comment. Jaebum was fading into sleep with his head resting on the door and Mark was just as silent driving. 

They reached Youngjae’s complex first and Jinyoung hopped out and folded his seat so he could climb out. He gently reminded him of the service card, and told him to call if anything happened again. Youngjae assured he would, but that he wouldn’t go looking for trouble, and once Jinyoung was buckled again, Mark typed in Yugyeom’s address and carefully pulled back into the lane. Jinyoung noticed how Bambam hadn’t slid into the other seat to have extra space. Instead, he leaned into Yugyeom, head resting under his chin. 

“You guys really going to be okay?” 

Yugyeom nodded. “Yeah, we’ll sleep it off. We didn’t think anything serious would happen. You saw it. It was just a goddamn greasy pizza box.” He ended on a mutter.

Jinyoung didn’t miss the self-berating tone. “It was probably the hand-writing. Mass produced Ouijas aren’t always dangerous, but when you put personal time and energy into it, that’s when things can get messy.” 

Yugyeom hummed in acknowledgement, keeping the silence and letting the white noise of the car fall around them. Him and Bambam left the car graciously when they stopped in front of their destination. “We’ll try not to burden you,” Yugyeom said, referring to the card. 

“Just stay safe,” Jackson pleaded, leaning across Jinyoung’s lap. 

“Sleep well,” Jinyoung offered. 

“Yeah, drive carefully,” Bambam croaked, voice laced with sleep. Yugyeom closed the door and Mark drove them back home. 

Home. 

Without another lead for the umpteenth time.

 

~*~ 

 

Yugyeom sat on the edge of his bed watching Bambam pace barefoot and shirtless around his room, gnawing on his worn down thumb nail. He kept pausing to stare at Yugyeom, pointing and inhaling only to continue his nervous movements. “We survived, doesn’t that help? We live to see another morning.” Yugyeom encouraged the conversation.

Bambam stopped chewing his thumb and raked his hand through his deep, fire engine-red hair. He irritatedly groaned in defeat, flipping himself onto the space beside Yugyeom, legs hanging over the edge. “We  _ angered  _ witches! Witches! They know where you and Youngjae hyung live. Just how many more mornings are we  _ meant  _ to survive now, Gyeom?” 

It wasn’t really anger. They had seen them as stupid teenagers playing a game they didn’t know the rules of, but everyone calmed down in the end. Everyone was safe and unharmed. Youngjae got home safe, him and Bambam were here, arguing and intact. If the witches were going to come after them, why give their service cards out? It wasn’t like any of them would call just for a  _ chat  _ or play twenty questions. 

“We’ll survive more if we don’t try anything again.” 

Bambam folded up to rest his head on Yugyeom’s shoulder. “Was it really the handwriting?” He asked through an exhale. 

“Yeah, that’s what Jinyoung said. And he’s kind of the expert, so.” Yugyeom’s books of witch lore were spread across his desk, leading to stacks on the floor and various notebooks strewn about to keep track of it all. He had never felt more  _ stupid _ , believing there was actually more out there only to question it when it was right in front of him. 

That curiosity almost killed his friends. He glared at his personal research, months and months of material gathered into more honest accounts of what may exist, and he just wanted to burn it. Forget there were demons and spirits that could be summoned up to end them before they were ready. Youngjae had never sounded so terrified than last night and now Bambam was worried over their lifespan for the rest of eternity. Their fear echoed within him. 

“Out of your head,” Bambam poked his temple lightly. “We  _ are  _ fine, but it’s just,” he shrugged one shoulder, “there’s never just one darkness, you know? Maybe that thing cursed us or something.” He played Yugyeom’s fingers against his own palms. “It’d be on all of us, not just you. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, Bammie. Sure.” Yugyeom didn’t even convince himself. He tapped Bambam’s jean-clad thigh and moved on. “C’mon, Youngjae hyung wants to  _ convene over coffee _ .” 

“Can’t he just say coffee and chill like a normal person?” Bambam chuckled, untangling their arms so he could get up and toss his shirt over his head. 

“He’s showing worry, too. I think it’s charming.” 

“Just say you’d date him and get it over with,” Bambam teased, throwing socks at him. 

“You’d date him, too.” Yugyeom slipped on the socks thankfully and stood up to grab his coat and messenger bag. 

“Nah buddy, I wouldn’t betray you like that.” 

Yugyeom bumped Bambam’s shoulder with a loose fist. “Not betraying if it’s mutual sharing.” 

“Ew,” Bambam faked disgust but ended up smiling before they walked out of the room. 

 

The sun was masked behind the storm clouds moving in, a telling-tale of clashing temperatures and the coming Autumn. They bought their drinks at a cafe situated on a corner near the park, and they walked in tandem--Youngjae holding his iced americano, Bambam with something sweet that took twenty words to order, and Yugyeom had his strawberry shake. A cafe wasn’t exactly the place to discuss delicate and private matters, even though they were unfortunate witnesses to several even more unfortunate break-ups in that particular cafe, but Youngjae was smart enough to not let them become one of those dramas. 

Yugyeom trailed slightly behind them on the way to the park, following the curved path by memory to a patch of trees tucked furthest away from the main entrances. It was a place they’ve always escaped to for open but private comfort. Hidden in the odd circle of trees was their familiar bench, ancient with dusty red paint chipping off from age and wear. He had wandered here with Bambam during their previous midterms, but other than that, it had felt like they hadn’t sat on this bench in a decade. He ran his fingertip over the slim metal arm, inspecting the dirt and dust that gathered over it, a rusted charcoal he could draw their life out with. 

“Gyeom-ah,” Youngjae broke him out of his thoughts, patting the empty middle. “Nostalgic already? We came here just a few months ago.” 

Yugyeom shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being sentimental.” As soon as he sat down, Bambam leaned on his shoulder and Youngjae hooked a leg around his. 

This spot had been unequivocally theirs for a couple years now. The first year was filled with new anxieties of what it meant to be a young adult with college and financial worries, and Bambam’s first heartbreak after losing his high school crush and realizing after a week they were better off as friends.. And Yugyeom had his first, solid encounter with something unexplainable that year, even with all of his knowledge and research. He really spiraled down into anxiety and insomnia, afraid because he thought that creature or thing would bind his wrists and rip his soul from his heart if he ever slept again. 

They all found refuge here in this tree-covered space, discussing their woes and advice, too focused on present breakdowns to wonder what the future held, the sky unseen from below the branches so the world didn’t seem as big and unconquerable. 

Their safe haven, Yugyeom smiled to himself, toeing at the dirt. 

Youngjae poked his side. “Please tell me you’re not losing it.” 

He shook his head. “I’m not. Just thinking,” he sighed. He couldn’t waste their day reminiscing though, when the real topic hung above all their heads. 

“I don’t think our lives are safe, but Gyeomie thinks they are,” Bambam fired the first shot. 

Yugyeom gasped, scandalized. “Yeah, if we don’t summon a shadow demon  _ thing  _ that wants to claw our brains out!” 

“I really didn’t expect that to happen,” Youngjae comforted. “Who knew witches were that powerful?” He chuckled lightly. 

Yugyeom wondered, too. He knew there was truth to witches  _ existing _ , bending the natural energy of cultivated earthstones and calling upon the very life of the planet, holding celebrations and rituals in preparation for solstices, offering the fruits of prosperity in hopes for lasting peace. But the power radiating from Jaebum’s fingertips, the lightning raining down when Mark threw his palm to the sky, how Jackson opened a wormhole to another world using some kind of spelled tiles, each with a special character--it was more than just a system of energy. It was raw, controlled  _ power _ . A thing of legend, hidden within modern tales of the middle ages. 

“What happens now?” Bambam peeked around at Youngjae. 

“We call them if there’s cause.” 

“So we just continue living silently? What if we can help them? I  _ know  _ things,” Yugyeom spoke indignantly. 

Youngjae swirled his cup lazily, hitting Yugyeom’s chest with his open hand. “We were falling apart in a corner. Even if you  _ know _ , fighting things we’ve never seen before is a whole other level of uselessness. It’s just your curiosity that wants to help, but if you helped and encounter that again, you would still scream.” 

A defense threatened to fall from his lips, but Yugyeom sucked his bottom lip in before exhaling, slumping against the bench. “You’re right,” he confessed to the turning leaves. 

“They  _ were  _ cool, though” Bambam admitted, reading Yugyeom’s mind.

“Ugh, so cool!” Yugyeom yelled, a little mournful that they’d probably never have reason to call them. Never get to see them harness light and barriers and  _ portals  _ with just the palms of their hands. Yugyeom already experienced how cruel the world could be, but allowing him to witness evidence of something  _ bigger  _ and never letting him close to it again? 

_ Destructive _ . 

He wouldn’t have nightmares about the claw with an open mouthed palm, but he’d have nightmares over the stress of chasing something he could never reach. 

He was already exhausted reeling over his inability to forget the witches.

Bambam carded his hands through Yugyeom’s hair and Youngjae hugged his arm, tethering him to this dark and unjust world. 

Yugyeom realized he barely touched his drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well henlo i hope you enjoyed it, and even if you didn't i hope your day still goes well or that you have a nice night. the earth seems to be trying to burn so remember your ice and your fans to stay cool! 
> 
> my newly organized thread for this au is pinned on [my twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) but I especially wanna shoutout [anto](https://twitter.com/nihilssi) for making [THIS](https://twitter.com/pinkichor/status/1020116502962294784) awesome cover as my bday gift and also made this INCREDIBLE [trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOqMWRWRCnQ) which is also the top of my thread. i'm honestly never gonna stop crying over it 
> 
> feel free to leave kudos, comments, or nothing at all bc it's your life and experience. but if you have burning anonymous commentary or questions [here's my cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	2. Scene II

Yugyeom paled immediately when Bambam walked into the main campus library. He looked restless and disheveled, cheeks too red and eyes too wide; eyes without contacts. And Bambam  _ always  _ wore contacts. Suddenly, the library did not feel like the safest place to be, but his mess of a friend sat opposite across from him anyway. His forehead hit the waxed wood table with an echoing  _ thud _ , and a couple other students shot them a warning glare. 

“You want to talk  _ here _ ?” Yugyeom whispered, a bite of disbelief laced in his worry. “What about fresh air? And water and  _ food _ , Bammie? You look like you’ve lost ten pounds,” he tried to keep his volume in check, leaning over the table, but the girl with her mint hair in a loose bun gave him the  _ watching you  _ gesture, ready to get them kicked out at any moment. 

“Is this what it’s like to die?” Bambam moaned dramatically. 

“Yah, yah, not here,” Yugyeom decided on his own. He stood up and helped Bambam back out of the chair. He wobbled, the strength clearly gone from his arms and they weren’t able to wrap tightly around Yugyeom for support. Yugyeom despised embarrassing his friends in public, but there wasn’t another way. He turned around, bent down a little and in a surprisingly smooth lift, settled Bambam easily over his spine to piggyback him out of there. Mint-haired girl stole a picture, and Yugyeom swallowed a growl, realizing he’d probably find it on the campus snapchat story later. 

He walked slow over the straightest path he remembered, along a currently empty line of brick and hoped the cooling breeze would rise Bambam just enough to explain what the hell happened. But they wandered for about a half hour, trees rustling and crows calling them out; Yugyeom’s gaze followed a falling feather until it softly landed among the dewy grass. And he figured maybe that’s how they looked to the universe right now--Yugyeom an expanse of cold, wet grass and Bambam the single, shed feather laying daintily atop him. 

Bambam finally bristled, a shiver racking through him and his arms actually clung as tight as he could to keep from slipping off. “We can’t be here,” Bambam hushed beneath the breeze. 

“It’s fine, Bammie. Just explain your cryptic texts.” 

“No,” he whispered at Yugyeom’s ear. He felt Bambam shake his head along his shoulder. “No, she’ll hear. We  _ cannot  _ be here.” 

“Who will?” Yugyeom glanced over his shoulder. Bambam’s nervous and feverish cheeks from before had disappeared, leaving his face fully drained of color. His eyes trembled quickly to the right and left, whispering for something to shut up as if he had gone mad. The breeze turned into a wind gust, disturbing Yugyeom’s balance for a split second, and he froze in place watching the feather dance along the blades until it drifted into the air again, becoming nothing more than a speck. 

When he chanced another look at Bambam, heartbeat rising, there was something  _ wispy _ dusting his body like an aura. “Please don’t say anything,” Bambam whined. 

It wasn’t normal, Yugyeom’s brain sirened. He envisioned red and blue lights strobing with high pitched warnings so everyone else would pull to the side, and fast-forwarded through what his explanation would sound like, how his conversation would go with the medics until they were both sentenced to heavy therapy. 

He bent over more to keep Bambam on his back and jostled a hand into his back pocket to dig out his phone. He quickly texted Youngjae,  _ BIG TROUBLE. ENTRANCE,  _ and slipped it into the flap pocket of his messenger bag for easier access. He carried them along the path, walking quickly towards the campus entrance closest to Youngjae’s class. He didn’t know if he’d skip class, but he did know Youngjae always checked his phone. He released a heavy breath when he saw the familiar tuft of brown hair, phone poised in his hands as he bit his bottom lip. 

“Hyung!” Yugyeom set Bambam down gently on a nearby bench. He continued muttering deliriously, zoning in and out as the wisps snaked around his form. “ _ Please _ , it’s hurting him.” 

“What  _ is  _ that?” 

“I don’t know!” He ripped a hand through his hair, skin clammy and making his bangs damp with nervous sweat. “He’s been exhausted for weeks, but I thought it was just from homework and Netflix binging! Not,” he gestured vaguely to whatever was trying to eat him alive, “ _ that _ .” 

“Don’t you know what these things  _ are _ ,” Youngjae screeched. 

“Does that really  _ matter _ ?” Yugyeom narrowed his eyes, worry and impatience curling into fists and knotting his stomach. The encounter from a few weeks ago reared its ugly head, and he bent down in case he puked. “He was worried we were cursed now. What if we are? How do we stop it?” 

Youngjae’s face distorted in fear and panic, until he stared at his phone. “The number, the  _ number _ ! Do you have it?” 

The witches. 

_ Expert Exorcists and Paranormal Professionals _ , he remembered scoffing at the business card tagline, sounding more like a small town law firm for unsettled car accidents. He dug the phone from his messenger bag and unlocked it, holding it out for Youngjae to take. He had to make sure if Bambam breathed his last that he was focused on hearing it, wanting the sound of it to haunt him so he’d never get mixed in too deep ever again. 

Yugyeom assumed it was some kind of spirit, draining the energy out of Bambam from the way it grew and began spiraling around his limbs. The worry and pain laced in his delusional chants were probably remnants of the spirit’s last memories. Yugyeom was afraid to cut through it, but he had to ground them both somehow, and with his blood pumping heavy, he reached his hand forward to caress Bambam’s whitening cheek. “You’ll be okay. Just stay with me, yeah? We won’t let it take you.” He entwined his other hand with Bambam’s, whispering the words again like a spell that could break this chain. 

Youngjae’s panicked voice sounded muted under the beating against Yugyeom’s eardrums. He just didn’t want to lose his friend like this. Bambam didn’t deserve that fate. Yugyeom begged him again to keep breathing and let the world fall to just the two of them, and the unexplainable. 

 

~*~ 

 

Mark pulled the phone away from his ear and  _ cringed _ at the volume. He was barely even listening at this point, the kid saying the same thing over and over again, that they were at the university and Bambam was about to be swallowed whole by a “possessive wispy thing”. 

“Yah! It’s those idiots again,” Mark yelled around a lollipop. “Think they attracted something vengeful. Doesn’t sound good.” 

“Good, let it have revenge,” Jaebum waved lazily from the couch. 

Jinyoung walked up from behind and hit the back of his head, quickly threading his hand into Jaebum’s hair and tugging it until they locked gazes. “Rally up, hyung.” 

Jaebum hated how easily he gave in, and even Mark winced when he surrendered with nothing more than a gaze and physical touch. “Whatever you say, love,” he said through a false grin. He left the comfort of his plush, memory foam couch and tensely slid into his large, black bomber jacket. 

“Seun-ah!  _ Seun-ah _ !” Jinyoung called as he left down the hall. “Expel and capture! Be ready!” 

A faint “Got it,” traveled back. 

“Stay on the phone with them,” he pointed to Mark. “Twenty minutes.” 

“It takes like fifteen one way,” Mark corrected. 

“Not if I drive.” 

Mark whistled as they stumbled out the door. Jaebum used to be the one in a rush, running and flipping everywhere, mastering parkour before the word even  _ existed  _ because it would get him from point a to b in record time compared to taking the route set before them. And then they started getting hoaky calls and panicked screeches of teens who had just whispered  _ Mary  _ into the mirror three times, or made a pentagram for their deepest wish only to end up scared shitless. It weighed him down until he cared less and less, keeping sonic speed only when Mark was sure it was a  _ real  _ call. But he took his time with the stupid kids. 

Jinyoung did agree that humans and non-magics should have known by now not to mess with another realm on  _ purpose _ ; they had at least ten-thousand movies and half as many tv shows warning the international population about the consequences, and some of them still chose to follow in the characters’ footsteps. It was honestly a little ridiculous, but Jinyoung also remembered being young--new to experimenting and testing boundaries of his own magic even when his father had warned him otherwise, explaining how everything he’d need to know would come naturally. 

He was stupid once. Still was at times, but it wasn’t up to the humans if something would come of their summoning or not. Sure, it was a game, and sometimes it was just that. And other times it was a game without solid rules and the chance of it wasn’t in anyone’s control. So, in the times Jaebum hated his life of hunting, Jinyoung learned to take the wheel and push the pedal to the floor. 

He was the asshole swerving around cars and running through yellow lights that turned red before he was safely through. He grit his teeth and hissed at pedestrians running across the road when they were literally ten feet away from the crosswalk. It was dangerous and adrenaline fueling, but he got them to the campus in one piece, tires squealing when he braked and turned the wheel too hard when he saw them by the bench. He lifted the parking brake and hopped out, opening the side door and folding the chair over so they could climb in. “Get the  _ fuck  _ in,” he yelled, breaking Youngjae out of a panicked stupor and Yugyeom wasted no time carrying Bambam from the bench to the running SUV. 

“Drive for me, hyung,” and Jaebum heeded, noticing that this was an emergency. They wrangled Bambam into the backseat with Yugyeom, and Youngjae climbed into one of the middle bucket seats so he was out of Jinyoung’s way. Jinyoung hopped in and closed the door, not bothering to sit in a seat or buckle up. He stayed kneeled between the empty seat and Bambam’s slumped body. The car jerked as Jaebum wasted no time speeding home. 

The kid was  _ beyond  _ bad. He was clammy and too pale, the fragile wisp of what the spirit  _ had  _ been now taking over the surface of his existence. “Please, you can’t. She’ll hear, she’ll hear,” Bambam mumbled in a haze. Jinyoung held his hand and closed his eyes, focusing warmth to the tips of his fingers and hoping the thoughts of safety and help reached his cluttered mind. 

“How long has he been like this?” Jinyoung kept his eyes closed. 

Yugyeom stuttered over words until Youngjae spoke. “Maybe an hour? But, Gyeom said he’s been tired for weeks. Sent some weird messages and we just assumed it was work getting the better of him.” He paused.  “Is that  _ contagious _ ?” 

Jinyoung opened his eyes to glare at Youngjae. “It’s not fucking  _ contagious _ . Spirits aren’t a stupid stomach flu. It’s taking root in  _ his  _ soul and his soul  _ alone.” _

“Is this from the pizza Ouija thing?” Yugyeom found his voice. “Bammie  said there’s never just one darkness. But I thought you guys took care of that thing! I thought it was dead, and now we’re cursed.” 

Jinyoung grabbed his hand, too. “Yugyeom, you need to calm down.” He couldn’t keep the spirit at bay  _ and  _ handle Yugyeom’s mental breakdown here. Not when Jaebum was driving ten miles per hour too slow and braking at red lights when it was the time to run through them. He even snapped at him to go faster and Jaebum said he was trying with such force that Jinyoung had a tiny ache of regret over it. 

Yugyeom was still freaking out and Youngjae’s face twisted in disgust and worry, etching their rushing silence with more unasked questions, especially when they arrived and stumbled into their old, forgotten mansion of a home. Mark guided them to Jackson’s set up in an unused room in the back of the left hall. Jaebum had carried Bambam and set him down on the blanket covering the wooden floor, likely a smooth surface so the spirit couldn’t escape through the cracks of the old flooring. With a flick of his wrist, Mark lit the candles, having memorized Jackson’s patterns enough to know that was the next step. 

Jinyoung instructed the other two to stay put and if they moved, he would not hesitate to let Jaebum physically injure them. They just clung to each other in fear and fascination, mostly praying out loud that their friend would survive. 

With Jackson at the helm,  _ everyone  _ survived. He had an  _ immense  _ amount of power, but Jinyoung always feared what material objects they’d lose in every process. Sometimes it was difficult to help him stay in check, but they hadn’t lost a life or spirit yet because of Jackson. 

The four of them took their places, forming a T-shape to connect the candles. Jackson concentrated energy from the tips of his toes through his fingertips and the crown of his head, grounding a piece of himself into every rune tile sealed to the floor. Jinyoung held the barrier steady, while Mark kept the candles lit and Jaebum readied a banishing spell to compliment Jackson’s. 

At first, Bambam’s feverish mumbling grew louder, bouncing off the walls until it turned into painful yelps and white noise screeching, his thin body writhing within the trap. They all hated this part the most, working desperately to keep the spirit  _ in  _ until the host was free and needed to get out of the trap. Jackson coerced it to keep escaping, guiding it to use the warmth of the ever-burning flames to thrive without a human tether. 

It was merciless, aiming to hiss at them and snake back under Bambam’s skin, but Mark set his palm aflame and grabbed at the bulk of it, encouraging Jackson that he could do this. Jinyoung was sweating to keep the barrier intact with Mark’s intrusion, but he held it long enough for the runes to dig at the rest of the wisp. Mark held the spirit now with both hands on fire, making time for Jinyoung to carefully lift Bambam from the floor and set him away from their center. Luckily, the barrier didn’t fall enough for the angry, shrieking spirit to escape. 

Mark released it so there were no more outside intrusions. Jackson didn’t hold back anymore, cursing it until the blanket began to smoke and Jaebum’s flurry of movement and silent incantation forced the wisp to curl into the blanket, and together they set the whole thing on fire, hearing the telltale shrill of it being vanquished and banished from this world forever. 

If Jaebum hadn’t been there, Jinyoung knew the whole room would have gone up in flames. They all collectively sighed in relief when nothing outside of the runes had been damaged, and Mark soothed Jackson down while Jaebum and Jinyoung cared for Bambam. The delusional mutterings had ended, but his skin was still sticky and just barely lukewarm. 

“He’s going to sleep for awhile, probably have violent shivers and then an equally as violent fever until his body temperature regulates again.” Jaebum informed. 

“You really didn’t do anything?” Jinyoung leaned his head back to scrutinize Yugyeom and Youngjae. 

Youngjae shook his head and Yugyeom gave a definitive “No.” 

“Hm, odd,” he replied. Chance was a fickle thing and maybe this bunch was one of the lucky few to just have shit like this happen to them. 

Jaebum didn’t say another word as he disappeared, Jinyoung assumed to his study to overthink the possibilities and explanations for what it all meant because that’s what he always did. But it was better to leave the room now, Jackson hanging on Mark and Yugyeom carrying Bambam with Youngjae’s hand comfortingly on the small of his back. Jinyoung shut the door and sealed it off with a spell that would wear off in a few days, just a precaution to guarantee nothing was left of the burned spirit. 

Jinyoung settled the kids on the couch with blankets and damp cloths to wipe Bambam’s forehead with, while Mark and Jackson curled up in the adjacent loveseat. He sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table where there wasn’t any furniture and picked up a book mostly for cover so he could comfortably glance over the pages to check how everyone was doing. Youngjae glanced at him curiously a couple times, looking all the world like asking more questions, perhaps specific ones rather than bullshit about  _ sacrifices _ . But it was as if he knew there would be a time and a place, staying quiet with his lips downturned in a silent apology for something he hadn’t been responsible for. 

Youngjae took over fever responsibilities, dabbing Bambam’s flushed cheeks and burning forehead with the damp cloth, and Yugyeom quickly fell asleep with his head on Bambam’s chest, legs hanging off the couch in a position Jinyoung thought was uncomfortable; he couldn’t blame him for being wholly exhausted and not caring one bit how his body was folded and stretched. Youngjae’s head kept leaning against the back of the couch and he’d long abandoned the damp cloth, the soft throw around his shoulders slipping and only hanging off his left shoulder, and Jinyoung breathed a sigh of relief when Youngjae finally drifted and stopped shaking himself awake. 

Jinyoung, too, folded his knees to his chest, chin resting atop them until he was pulled into a nap while watching them sleep. 

 

*

 

Mark  _ hated  _ stirring up a recovering Jackson. He had clearly been dreaming something pure and adorable from the way he kept accidentally pawing at Mark’s forearms and humming to himself now and again. And he knew moving would disturb that stream of consciousness, but he could tell from the one-word tone of Jaebum’s text that there was something more important than keeping Jackson asleep. It was just heartbreaking to have to wake him first because if he simply tried to maneuver out from under Jackson’s weight on this tiny, half-sized loveseat, Mark was sure to be hit with  _ magic surprise  _ and a string of multi-lingual swears. 

He lightly carded his fingers through Jackson’s bleached hair, whispering his name to wake him softly. It took a couple tries and some palm kisses, but he finally moaned and stretched into a light consciousness, one step away from falling asleep, but it was safe enough. “Hey,” Jackson drawled with a dreamy fondness, hand pressed to Mark’s cheek. 

“Hey, Gaga,” Mark replied, chest already aching even though he had yet to leave. “Honey, Jaebummie needs to talk with me. You feeling stable enough?” 

Jackson dropped his hand to the top of the seat to pull himself up just a little, nodding and twisting his lower body around, but just ended up heaving his body onto the floor. Mark couldn’t help but laugh at how sluggish and unbalanced he was like this, but he helped Jackson climb back into the loveseat where he curled into a ball, missing Mark’s warmth. “I’ll be back, okay?” He tucked a blanket around Jackson’s folded form, infusing it with a warming spell so Jackson safely returned to his dream. 

He noticed Jinyoung had nodded off with his knees pulled up and the kids were asleep in various awkward positions along the couch. Even seeing them now, softened from exhaustion and extreme worry, his fists balled up with both disdain and misfortune. Logically, they had been telling the truth, he could tell that much. They hadn’t tried to call anything else into this realm, but if something else had come through the first portal they had opened, everything falling apart or cursing them was  _ because  _ of them. And this hunting service didn’t factor in  _ regular  _ clientele. It was one and done, and if it had happened a second time, they had likely died before having the chance to phone help. 

Mark knew if he was stewing over the situation, Jaebum was boiling over and about to explode. He easily slipped past Jaebum’s chameleon curtain keeping the winding staircase hidden, his sweatshirt sleeves pulled over his hands to prepare steady comfort in the face of a strained and stressed Jaebum. He opened the door at the top of the stairs and entered Jaebum’s study, taking in the papers scattered over the desk and the headlines pinned to the wall, books in every corner and a dim light overhead, adjusted for the falling eve and building nerves. 

It had only been a few hours since they were all in the room downstairs banishing a low-level spirit intent on revenge, but Jaebum had aged in that short time. He had been running hands through his hair too often until the bangs just curled back and away from his forehead, announcing his stress creases to a world of pitying witnesses. He had stripped down to a tank top, and was still trapped in his black jeans. 

Jaebum was an absolute  _ wreck _ . Mark was going to personally force him into bed, even spell him to sleep for a day if that’s what it took. 

But the door closed with a flick of Jaebum’s wrist, Mark feeling a small tingle at his scalp and he recognized it as Jaebum’s soundproofing spell. No one could eavesdrop on them and they couldn’t be interrupted. The entire room hushed, Mark waiting for a beginning he wasn’t going to get. “The sooner you talk, the sooner I’m putting you to bed,” he said with his hands on his hips. 

“I’m not  _ five _ .” 

“You called me here to talk, Jaebum, so talk.” Mark wasn’t commanding, but pleading. He stepped closer to where his broken leader was frozen against his desk, hands reaching for his shoulders. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. We all trust you.” 

“My feelings aren’t as accurate as yours,” Jaebum scoffed more to himself. 

“Maybe, but they’re still valid.” 

Jaebum let his head fall to Mark’s shoulder, chest heaving until his lungs almost burst and he had no choice but to talk on the exhale. “It didn’t come here on its own. Something brought it here.” 

Mark swallowed. He already knew some spirits and demons didn’t find their own way here, or had simply stuck around after death. It was a common guideline woven into the universe of their own realm, as well. The terrible beings were conjured by plotting, vicious witches the council hadn’t always captured and punished. And if it was a non-magic, heaven forbid they were ever summoned to do a witch’s bidding in the realm. There was simply no mercy for the non-magic pawns, but the witch often walked free to do it again. As long as it wasn’t a plot to undermine the King, anything was easily shoved under the metaphorical rug. 

Except the King undermined himself, left to reincarnate in the human realm a multitude of times, leaving their small group to chase after him and fix what was shattered, even if they didn’t have all the pieces to glue it back together. And if Jaebum was repeating trivial information, Mark sunk into the road Jaebum walked along, knowing they were dealing with something bigger. And the worst part was that Mark had been walking ahead of him, hoping it wouldn’t be true. Not yet. Not now. Not with these kids just starting their lives. 

“ _ Something  _ summoned it, Mark,” he growled into the fabric of Mark’s sweatshirt. “It was so small, but I swear it was him. It  _ had  _ to be, right?” 

He fought with saying yes, afraid of what it meant for them to actively chase a clue that was likely to lead them right into the depths of the ocean to drown, like always. Life happened in cycles, and they weren’t immune to that, catching the drift of a familiar soul only to lose it by the time they could see the tail. This, too, was merely another beginning of a new cycle, and the weight of that extended to those three kids too deep in their own dreamscapes to be able to wonder what picture they were apart of. 

Mark couldn’t to lie to Jaebum. 

Because he touched it with both hands flaming, hearing the screams of it transport him to a time long passed, fueled with darkness and betrayal. Like Jaebum said, it was slight, but an influence had been written into the existence of the wisp. If Mark didn’t voice his suspicions, maybe it wouldn’t come true. But it was already inherently true, especially now that he wasn’t the only one to notice. They were the ones to experience the King’s energy most often in the other realm, but Mark still hated that it was down to them to fulfill their punishment and duty, all the while keeping Jackson and Jinyoung safe and unharmed. And now three humans ended up on their victims list. 

“Yeah, Jaebum. It was.” 

“We can’t let them leave.” He tugged at the sweatshirt around Mark’s elbows. 

“They’re  _ kids _ , Jaebum. It’s not like we can imprison them here.”

“Have Jinyoung talk to them. He’s always been the best bullshitter and they already  _ like  _ him.” 

Like, meaning trusted. Mark couldn’t blame them. Jinyoung had kept them safe on the frontline twice in just a matter of weeks. Even Jinyoung seemed to be taken with them more than any other teenagers they had saved. Mark blamed it on the fact that they hadn’t performed a capture and expel like that in a while. Left any longer, Bambam would have probably been in a coma instead of a terrible deep sleep. It was the what-ifs and alternate scenarios that made Jinyoung’s heart bleed for them. 

Jaebum dropped his hands to grip the edge of his desk. “It’s been  _ decades _ , Mark. You know what happens if we let this lead go.” 

He also knew the chase always came up empty, and maybe that was the real punishment; search for the soul of their King, only to find a dead-end road, cursed to run the cycle for eternity like little hamsters on a wheel. But if they ignored it and any of the three youngest ones sitting on their couch turned up dead, it would be their guilt and burden to bear. 

Mark despised how this cycle began. “Okay, I’ll make it happen. On one condition.” He watched as Jaebum feigned betrayal and then rolled his eyes. “You’ll go to bed and go to sleep even if it means I spell you myself.” 

Jaebum went to argue it, but Mark shushed him with a finger on his lips. 

“It can all wait, precious. This is just the first incident, okay? And they’ll have to rest and pack over the next couple days. For once, we are taking this one step at a time, am I clear?” 

Jaebum snapped his mouth open and tried to bite Mark’s finger, but he was faster, pulling it back into his sleeve and Jaebum’s teeth caught the cuff. 

“You’re always cuter when I win.” 

Jaebum cringed and let the sleeve go. “You didn’t  _ win _ . There was nothing to win.” 

“There’s always something to win, kitten,” Mark winked. “Now let’s go. You’re going to bed first.” 

Jaebum groaned like a petulant child, but pushed away from the desk and took up the lead as they went out of his study, flicking the light off and binding the door as they left. Mark followed him down the stairs and through the right hallway until they entered the second to last room on the left. They had bent the space of the original interior just a bit to create enough individual and shared rooms, each existing for a certain reason, and this room was only theirs. He knew Jaebum had too much on his mind and needed the least amount of interruption if he was going to get any sleep, and Mark held back on cooing over how he chose to have Mark sleep with him over sleeping in his individual room. 

Mark threw a pair of clean underwear and dark grey sweatpants onto the bed. Jaebum changed into them in no time, barely picking up his feet as he went to the half bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He still looked stressed, but all his nervous energy had finally drained from his features, expression slacking to that of a worried young man who did the same thing for too long. He climbed under the navy comforter and rolled onto his side, facing away from the wall. 

Mark crouched down to meet Jaebum’s gaze and combed the falling hair off his forehead. “I’ll talk to Jinyoungie and then come back. Do you need a spell?” 

Jaebum’s cheek rustled the pillowcase when he tried to shake his head. “Not yet.” 

Even as Mark stroked his thumb over Jaebum’s cheek, moving to trace his favorite twin moles, Jaebum was already blinking slower and slower, breath evening out under the blanket and his curled hand unfurled just the slightest. Mark gently lifted his hand away and whispered one more promise of returning soon, and walked into the living room. 

Jackson had stretched out in the loveseat with his legs hanging off one of the arm and his back resting on the cushion, more awake now than daydreaming. Yugyeom was awake, too, observing the vast countryside and abandoned farmland visible from the window, while Youngjae and Bambam had twisted together on the couch and Mark couldn’t separate their limbs if he tried. Jinyoung had kept his place on the floor and was currently burning worry lines into the back of Yugyeom’s head. 

He started with Jackson, quietly explaining how Jaebum needed him tonight and they wouldn’t be able to cuddle-pile together and yes, he knew he promised to come back but it was a discussion for the morning when it would just be the four of them. Jackson whined a bit like a desperate puppy, but Mark  _ pinky  _ promised to sleep in the cuddle room tomorrow and he delayed his forgiveness until then, still allowing Mark to kiss his cheek. 

Then he went to Jinyoung, tapped on his shoulder to rouse him of his sulking and free him from his own mind for a moment. He wiggled his hand and Jinyoung took the hint, using it to pull himself to his feet. Quietly, they hurried to the other side of the separation wall, going as far into the kitchen as they could. Jinyoung’s soundproofing spell wasn’t nearly the level of Jaebum’s, but it would take their whispers down a few notches until it was indecipherable. If anyone tried to eavesdrop, they’d only hear the hissing and snaps of strong consonants, and nothing more. It wouldn’t even be enough to  _ guess  _ what words they were hearing. 

Mark started mid-conversation because there wasn’t time or safety to preface with anything else. “The wisp was  _ his  _ doing, Jinyoungie. We’re sure of it, so Jaebum wants the kids to stay. Get them to  _ want  _ to be here so we can monitor and protect; unravel this as carefully as we can.” 

Jinyoung blankly stared with his mouth barely open. It was a lot to process with more pieces to fill in, but once he got it, he grabbed Mark’s shoulders. “Are you  _ crazy _ ? Decades of silence and he comes back using  _ them _ ?” He gestured one hand towards the living room behind the wall. 

“There aren’t any productive questions  _ or  _ answers right now, but I promised a very exhausted and pouty kitten that you’d convince them to stay for awhile.” 

“He really bit your finger again?” 

Mark sighed. “Tried.” 

Jinyoung’s hands slid off and he rubbed his temple. “Okay, fine. Give it a day or so until it sticks in case they need to formulate their own lies.” 

“Warned him already.” 

“That’s one less organ I’ll lose if this goes wrong, then. Thanks.” 

“Your organs don’t matter once you lose your head,” Mark teased, ruffling Jinyoung’s hair. “Besides, they like you and are just as worried. They’ll listen.” 

“We’ll see.” Jinyoung deflated. He wasn’t confident this would entirely go his way. 

They exchanged good nights and Mark padded back to the room where Jaebum was wholly asleep, arm hanging off the bed. He climbed in beside him, wearing just a tee and boxers, settling onto his back so Jaebum had space to roll over and sleep on his chest in the middle of the night. 

 

*

 

Jinyoung didn’t pace. He  _ never  _ paced. He was merely walking around the island in the kitchen for his evening exercise. He also wasn’t avoiding biting his nails off trying to think up a true enough to lie to give the poor victims as they woke up one by one. He was great at bullshitting, but terrible when the right questions were asked to tear down those lies and a part of him feared one of them would try to see through it. He paused at the end of the kitchen’s island to peer around the separation wall, and he was met with Yugyeom glancing away him back to the window, over-concentrating on the darkened view. 

Maybe Mark was right--they’d pay attention to whatever lie he said, without a single question because their safety and his expertise were more valuable compared to ripping apart his lies and half truths. So, he sucked confidence and hope into his lungs and headed for Yugyeom with his hands deep in his pockets. His heartbeat thumped louder against his chest with every footstep, reminding himself this was his only choice. He had one worry to go off and as much as he despised manipulating strangers, the situation left no options. 

He barely breathed his first word before Yugyeom stole the conversation. 

“This place is nice.” He pointed his chin to the land beyond their reflections in the glass, covered in the fog of night with the moon dancing along the soft breeze. 

They had lived here long enough, but the novelty of the countryside never wore off. Jinyoung thought in another life, he would have wanted to live simply like this, off the land with his found family and celebrate every solstice in the comfort of their own yard, devoid of streetlights and close neighbors. Jackson still laughed at him anytime he was caught staring at the ravens and listening for grasshoppers. But, in a word, it was serene. When the rest of the human realm didn’t seem to give them peace, their home here had plenty to share. 

“Yeah, we make do.” 

“How’d you find it?” 

“Kind of like how you found that abandoned motel.” 

Yugyeom briefly met Jinyoung’s gaze, moving down to stare at the floor. He shifted his weight between his feet and tugged at the excess fabric of his shirt billowing around his waist where it was tucked into his jeans. “We’re still really sorry. We didn’t think anything would happen, or that more than  _ one  _ thing would happen.” He chanced another look at Jinyoung, and he made sure to exude only forgiveness and care. “Are we really cursed now? Is the paranormal going to chase us our whole lives?” 

Jinyoung sighed and pulled his hands from his pockets. “We’re trying to figure that out. It could have just been something else spit out from the portal and it happened to tap into Bambam’s energy until it physically manifested, or there could be more. Or the shadow touched you just enough to make you sensitive to other things--attract them to you.” 

Yugyeom furrowed his brow and Jinyoung knew he was listening, but sought the information Jinyoung wasn’t telling. Before he could try another question, arms hugged Yugyeom’s waist and Youngjae’s head slipped out from under Yugyeom’s arm. “Can we fix it?” 

This was it, his one attempt to save them, and save himself from being decapitated by a disappointed Jaebum. He needed to get it right and the nervous pooling into his palm and the steady flow of his blood in his veins wasn’t helping his confidence. It was too loud, too noticeable and he just prayed his bangs covered up the stress acne already building on his forehead. He had lied millions of times! He was the reason other ghosts and darkly mischievous witches weren’t in this realm anymore. He lured them into traps and worked around their minds and memories, dangled their wishes and wants like ripe fruit until they fell through the dirt to rot. 

But Mark was always right. Jinyoung was a bleeding heart for them already. He counted the beats against his eardrum and twisted his genuine worry into the root of the lie that would help keep them safe. “When we found this place, it hadn’t been touched in a century, maybe more. It was crawling with horrors, nearly sunken into the Earth by its own black energy.” 

Yugyeom lifted his arm so Youngjae could cling fully to his side, and they both watched Jinyoung intently. 

“We didn’t know if it could be saved, but we lifted it from its grave, anyway. It was difficult to keep up, but the anguished forces found their own forgiveness when we didn’t leave; when we kept rebuilding what they broke. We reached a balance, until they wished to merge with the land and the walls and windows, becoming the very foundation keeping the entire property in a ring of protection.” Jinyoung’s voice cracked remembering their struggle as if it happened yesterday, and he cleared his throat to take the attention away. “It brings guidance and healing, but like all things, the energy takes time to soak in and heal.” 

They hung on his every word. 

“If that shadow did infect you, staying in the house might heal you.” 

“And if it’s not an infection?” Yugyeom said as he rubbed Youngjae’s back to comfort him. 

“Then we will figure it out. But until then, your better bet is studying here after classes, and the best bet is sleeping here for at least a week.” Jinyoung cut off Youngjae’s protest. “I  _ know  _ how it sounds, but no one is being sacrificed, okay? That’s not what this is. Jaebum hyung isn’t a fan of regular clients so if we don’t find out what’s happening, you’ll only have me to rely on to save your asses next time, and that’s  _ if  _ Mark hyung answers your call.” 

“A week?” Yugyeom sounded skeptical. 

Jinyoung nodded. “At least. It’s obvious you’re all sleeping here tonight, anyway. It’ll give you a grace period of two days to talk it over and decide. Is that fair?” He waited but they responded in stillness and in silence. “We won’t force you to do anything, and we’re open to suggestions. Okay?” 

Yugyeom nodded and Youngjae picked at Yugyeom’s shirt. They both agreed. 

“Good. Now if you want to sleep in a room, you’re welcome to join us in the first bedroom to the right, otherwise the one right across is fine. Extra blankets are in the drawer under the bed, and there’s ramen in the cupboard above the sink if you’re hungry. If  _ anything  _ happens with Bambam, you find me.” 

“Okay,” Youngjae said. 

Yugyeom dared for a staring contest, like he could search Jinyoung’s soul for more truth, but they had too intense of a day and he napped already, but he was set on sleeping with Jackson under the heavy comforter. He looked over to where the blonde was and his eyes were closed tight, pretending to sleep. “Come on Seunie, I know you were listening. Let’s go.” 

Jackson groaned, more annoyed that he hadn’t mastered how to fake sleep, and he pushed himself up to sit on the arm of the couch and slid off until his feet touched the floor. Just for fun, Jinyoung tapped his ass until he yelped and laughed into the bedroom. 

Before Jinyoung disappeared into the hall, he heard a shy, “Thank you,” from Yugyeom and he answered with a pained smile, that same bleeding heart full of worry and the worst what-ifs apparent on his face. He turned back when Jackson called him and they changed into comfier pajamas, slipping under the covers and sighing into the moonlit darkness. 

 

*

 

Youngjae sat and relaxed his legs under the coffee table, and Yugyeom’s were criss-crossed. Their ramen cups were half empty and still steaming on the table, and Bambam continued to shiver and sweat in his blanket cocoon behind them on the couch. 

“What do we do now?” Youngjae asked, mindlessly stirring the noodles with his chopsticks. 

“We wait for Bammie to wake up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eye emoji  
> who here would move in with them even if you were gonna be sacrificed bc big mood
> 
> i'm on [twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	3. Scene III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couple notes: 
> 
> -for some reason i don't like writing out -ssi so earlier on in this chapter just apply it in your mind if it's maknaeline talking about hyungline. if hyungline drop formalities with each other it's purposeful tho since they've been together far too long so common instances will be b/t markson and once in awhile jjp
> 
> \- the ~*~ indicate like new scenes or pov, whereas * indicates an insignificant amount of time has passed, even if it switches pov, it still continues with the same scene in case you were wondering 
> 
> -i have the angst and demonic creatures tags but it's nothing intense rn, and this chp is mentioned as conversation only and not an encounter, but the tag belongs there for later anyway :) 
> 
> here's chapter 3~ have fun <3

In the middle of the night, Yugyeom had moved with his friends into the large bedroom, which had two king mattresses pushed together to form one ridiculously giant bed. They slept in their own space, instead of directly beside Jinyoung and Jackson. It was a precaution in case Bambam’s recovery didn’t go well, and no one would get hurt but the witches would be able to heal him. 

Luckily, he woke up mostly fine in the morning, outside of the heavy grogginess and general haze that came from losing pieces of his memory pertaining to the events. Mark and Jackson drove them back to the school, and after somewhat surviving their classes for the day, they sat in a covered area outside the student building, discussing anything and everything about their unfortunate circumstances, including catching Bambam up on Jinyoung’s advice. 

“I don’t wanna get possessed again! I’m willing to listen to them,” Bambam confessed from between Yugyeom and Youngjae. 

“But who says Jaebum won’t kill us while we sleep anyway? Maybe that’s the big joke here,” Youngjae added. 

“I don’t think there’s any joke. I read him.” 

“What was it?” Youngjae asked. 

Yugyeom wasn’t going to tell them the witch had faltered. He wasn’t going to tell them Jinyoung’s frown and steady gaze held the sadness and forlorn nostalgia of a man who had been through this before. He wasn’t lying about their safety, but he wasn’t giving them the whole truth, either. Maybe it wasn’t right of Yugyeom to question it, but he had to at some point. They were involved with whatever the coven’s situation was, and they deserved to know what the coven knew. How were they supposed to help come up with other options if they had zero information on what they were actually battling? And whether Yugyeom convinced his friends Jinyoung knew best or not, their chances of dying were arguably the same either way. 

They’d have to stay, if only for Yugyeom to dig deeper into this thing they’d been sucked into. 

“Just pure worry. He genuinely wants us safe.” 

“And what’s our excuses for being gone a week?” 

“Isn’t your brother away for work, hyung? We can say we’re staying with you. Say you needed the company,” Bambam suggested. “It’s not like we’re skipping out on classes, right?” 

Yugyeom nodded. “We keep the usual routine, except we sleep at the coven’s.” He slid his attention to Youngjae who was nervously turning his cold drink around and around, swirling it and sipping it just for something to do rather than drinking it for pleasure. “Hyung, you don’t have to. We can find another lie--” 

“It’s okay,” Youngjae interrupted. He set his drink down on the brick ground and folded his hands over his knees. “It is the easiest choice. Hyung didn’t tell me how long this trip lasted, only that he’d be away for awhile. So, we can do what’s safer.” 

Bambam hummed committedly, and Yugyeom copied. He couldn’t handle another near-possession of one of his friends. He thought he wanted another chance at observing magic and seeing what damage the paranormal could do, but never against those he held dear. Never at the price they were still paying. It was unpredictable to ignore the warnings, and it was unpredictable listening to them. But, there wasn’t harm in trying to do what  _ could  _ be right. 

Yugyeom’s call with Mark was short and sweet, telling them not to go overboard with their necessities, and Yugyeom promised they would have a minimal amount with them--no more than if they were having to board a plane. A suitcase and a personal bag, nothing extra. Bambam whined at the temporary loss of half his makeup and contacts, and having to narrow down what skincare he brought, but they had the night to figure it out. Soon, they’d have a new routine of taking the bus five miles behind the campus and cutting through the treeline to get the vast wheat field with the elongated, tall, century-old house that was meant to heal them. 

This time tomorrow, Yugyeom would have questions, and the boiling dread of uncertainty screaming for his head. 

 

*

 

Lying to his mother was surprisingly easy. She remembered last spring when Youngjae didn’t want to walk in the rainy night alone, and by the time they reached his complex, lightning and thunder took over the storm. Yugyeom had called her while Youngjae pulled him faster inside and yelled with his entire body at every roll and unexpected bolt. It was a wonder his mother understood any word he said over that, but she did and Yugyeom spent the night because Youngjae’s brother wasn’t returning until early in the morning. Thinking his older friend still hadn’t changed at all, his mother told him to stay as long as he wanted. She also made meals he could take with him, which he fought tooth and nail against, repeating that they were all fine and at the very least, Bambam would cook for them. She was not having it and even threatened to deliver them to Youngjae himself after classes, so Yugyeom begrudgingly agreed to bring them along. 

Mark wasn’t going to be happy about the extra, non-airport approved baggage riding on board, but he would have to deal with it. Yugyeom’s options were to risk his neck with Mark, or risk their lie to his mom, and Mark happened to be the safer risk. 

Yugyeom managed to stuff a duffle bag with clothes he wore most often to feel less regret for the outfits he left behind. He also only took a face wash, toner, and a lotion, all sample sizes he got for free when he went to an event at the shop with Bambam. He threw in his decently sized shampoo and conditioner, toothpaste and toothbrush and floss, and body wash just in case the witches weren’t keen on sharing. Everything else he used, like his wallet, keys, and chargers were already in his school bag. He slipped his laptop in behind the textbooks, hating that it meant carrying extra weight during the school day, but it was the easiest way to transport it. There wasn’t any space for his research books or his notes, but he documented some of it on his laptop, so he knew it was worth bringing. 

He curled into bed after packing and read a part of his digital textbooks. Questions and possibilities of the coming week clouded his mind, and he eventually groaned in defeat, checking that his alarms were set and he closed his eyes even though he wasn’t the slightest bit tired. 

It was going to be a whole week of fitful nights. 

 

~*~

 

“Why is my fridge full of stews and rice and kimchi? There was already kimchi in here!” Jaebum closed the refrigerator door with a force that disturbed the contents on top of it. 

Yugyeom was kind of afraid for his life if he fessed up, but he bravely stood from the love seat and padded to the kitchen, deeply bowing. “That was me. I’m sorry.” He straightened again. “My mom was worried we were going to starve at Youngjae hyung’s, and it was either take it or have the lie blown open. And I wouldn’t be here right now because she would have tossed me into the hole in our backyard.” He was nervous. He did not like being nervous. But then again, who did? 

“Your mother made this,” Jaebum cocked an eyebrow and Yugyeom sheepishly nodded. “So it’s not poisoned with your germs?” 

“Only with the germs that came before me,” Yugyeom shrugged. 

Jaebum locked his jaw and Yugyeom felt he had already met his end. The older witch’s arm came up around his shoulders and closed around his neck, forcing him to bend at the waist so he wouldn’t choke to death. “Okay, smartass--” 

“Hyung!” 

Yugyeom blinked through the awkward ache crawling up his side to see Jinyoung staring right at them, hands on his hips. Bambam was laughing so hard he sprawled out against Youngjae, and Youngjae was nearly backflipping off the couch, mouth wide as he clapped, clearly entertained. It really wasn’t that hilarious of a situation, actually, and he’d be sure to give them the same treatment Jaebum was giving him. 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung said again, softer and exasperated. “Just ask to eat it like a normal person.  _ Please _ .”

“Squish him ‘til he pops,” Mark said as he passed behind them. 

Yugyeom yelped when Mark put a cold can against the bare skin where Yugyeom’s tee had rode up, and suddenly it didn’t matter that they were older and more powerful. If Yugyeom was supposed to respect them, he wanted some respect, too. 

There were various gasps when Yugyeom grabbed Jaebum’s wrist and spun out from under his headlock. He tried to let go before Jaebum followed it up, but he pinned Yugyeom’s arm to his back, and firmly held his other wrist. The only advantage Yugyeom had was being taller than Jaebum, but not a lot of good that did. If he even kicked back and swept the witch off his feet, Yugyeom would be going down with him. 

“Do you want me to call Jackson? Because I will. I am not afraid to use his phone number even when he’s busy. He’ll spell this whole place with sunshine and rainbows and huggie-lovey-kiss time over speaker.” Jinyoung pulled his cell from his pocket in warning.  

After Jinyoung’s threat, Jaebum released Yugyeom, throwing his hands up in surrender. Mark simply walked around them, sipping from his can. He shrugged at Jinyoung before disappearing down the left hall. 

“Now, you,” Jinyoung pointed at Jaebum, “eat whatever the hell you want and calm down. And you,” he narrowed his eyes at Yugyeom, “sit down.” He punctuated each word. 

Bambam and Youngjae cuddled each other, almost like they were testing if the both of them fit on one cushion. They fit on a cushion and a half, so Yugyeom took the empty space, sitting towards the edge of the couch, keeping his head down to count the amount of lines on one particular floorboard. 

Jinyoung used the coffee table as a seat, addressing the three of them. “We all want each other safe, and we all have boundaries to learn. But you cannot goad him like that. It’s a delicate situation and we haven’t had guests in a long time. Promise me you’ll tread carefully?” 

“How is the situation delicate if it’s only about cleansing  _ us _ ?” Yugyeom began his battle. 

“Cleansing you so  _ we  _ don’t have to deal with you again. I told you, Jaebum hyung does not appreciate regular clients. It spreads trouble for you, us, and the borders between the worlds.” 

“You didn’t say that part before,” Youngjae accused. “The borders can be broken down?” 

Jinyoung frowned. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s more like once that energy finds an opening to come through--which would be you three--there won’t be set borders anymore because that single opening exists. It will kill what little precautions we have, and maybe all of you.” 

There was still a sadness in his expression that Yugyeom couldn’t quite find an answer to. The more he doubted their truths, the less his friends would follow through on trying to stay safe. 

“Can we talk?” Yugyeom glanced over to Jinyoung and then the hallway. 

“Okay,” Jinyoung stood. 

Yugyeom barely left the cushion when Bambam pulled him back down. “It could  _ kill  _ us? Why didn’t he say this borders thing before?” 

“If he left that out, what else is he hiding?” Youngjae followed the trail of doubt. 

“I’m sure he didn’t want us to panic. We’re here, the house can help.  _ They  _ can help,” he gestured to Jaebum who was presumably still in the kitchen and Jinyoung who was walking into the hall. “It’ll be okay. Let me talk to him.” 

“Fine, go,” Bambam let him go and playfully kicked the air. 

Jinyoung led him to the very end of the hall and into the last bedroom on the left. It was lightly furnished, a full sized bed in the far corner with one bedside table, a black and gold lamp on top. Instead of clothes in the closet, there were bookshelves. The walls were painted a shade just shy of periwinkle, with dark navy curtains to compliment the room. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t exactly warm and inviting; Yugyeom was reminded of his own space at home. 

The door closed and his scalp and toes tingled when the air shifted. 

“Do you dream of the ocean?” Jinyoung smoothed over the blanket on the bed, only to wrinkle it anyway when he sat on it. “Not above it, with warm sand and brighter skies, but what life is like below. The coolness, the freedom, knowing the time of day by reflections of sunshine and moonlight instead of numbers and AM or PM. What it might be like to breathe water into your lungs without drowning.” 

When he pat the bed, Yugyeom scooched until his back touched the wall and he crossed his ankles. “I think most of us would be lying if we said we haven’t wondered. I’ve seen that world when I dive under, but it’s not even close to living below the surface.” He chuckled to himself. “Only merpeople know how it is.” 

Jinyoung didn’t make him elaborate about merpeople. “We were forced to live under the ocean without being given the instincts to survive it. Sometimes we still find ourselves drowning, thinking it will never change and we’ll never know the taste of air and oxygen again.” He leaned against the wall, too, letting his legs relax against the bed. “And then something happens, and we cough up the water we’ve let sink us for too long. We flounder and choke, but we reach the surface again.” 

“And we’re that something? We’re bringing you back where you belong?” 

“The thing you attracted was that something, but yes, you are the catalyst.” Jinyoung switched to crossing his legs, shifting his body so his shoulder was against the wall. He faced Yugyeom because the boy had been intently observing him. “I know you have doubts and questions, but whatever you ask, be aware the answer may not be a good one.” 

Yugyeom figured it was best to start going in order of importance. “Just tell me what you’re leaving out. The big whale or shark stalking this big ocean,” he said mostly to appeal to Jinyoung’s metaphor. “There was something more to that spirit that attacked Bambam, right? It wouldn’t have formed physically like that.” 

Jinyoung exhaled and traced down the wall with his finger. “No, it wouldn’t have.” He closed his eyes and let his chest fully expand before breathing out slow and sure. “Our tale is a long one, but the realm we come from lost its ruler. He was the first soul to have true form. Witches before him were not unlike spirit orbs or wisps of energy. He was successfully  _ solid,  _ able to live again and again. Eventually, the four of us were responsible for him in some way, in keeping him healthy and educated and advocating new laws on his behalf.” Jinyoung uncrossed his legs and curled them closer to his body. “He had so much raw, unstable power, and Jaebum hyung absorbed part of it. He became his balance. When one was dark, the other was light.” Jinyoung paused for a shorter inhale. “We lost the first soul, our one true king. And we were banished to this realm to find his reincarnation--we’ve been searching this place for centuries.” 

“So, you think the spirit was connected to that king?” 

“Mark hyung felt it, and he’s never been wrong.” 

Any other questions Yugyeom had lined up were stuffed underneath the laundry room somewhere like the missing matches to socks. “Are we really gonna be okay?” 

For the first time, Jinyoung answered with the whole truth. “I don’t know, but I hope so.” 

With a story like that, Yugyeom didn’t think there was any room for hope. 

 

~*~

 

“You told him.” Jaebum walked the line between the first bookshelf and where Jinyoung was standing. “You  _ told  _ him?” 

There was a fire in his eyes Jinyoung should have felt like running from, but the intimidation of his anger had long since worn off, at least for something relatively small like this. “He was doubting us before this, hyung. They were going to find out at some point.” 

“Yes, some point being when we lose the trail and they go on their merry way, like all the other times.” 

“I may be the best liar here, but it doesn’t mean I can or will lie through  _ everything _ ! You know that.” 

Jaebum covered the short distance between them and didn’t walk back. He continued forward until Jinyoung hit the end of the other bookshelf. The only mistake was cornering Jaebum in their library instead of waiting for him to return upstairs. “And you could have said that you can’t say anything, or you needed to ask permission! Our history isn’t just  _ yours _ !” His arm flew out just to make Jinyoung understand the grand scheme of being a team. They’d been through this argument before whenever Jinyoung had to make a snap decision, and they always came out fine. “They’re young and dumb, Jinyoungie, and you know what young and dumb kids do? They run headfirst into danger.” 

Oh, so that was the fire in his eyes. Worry of what the kids were going to do after knowing the full extent of their circumstances. “It’s not like they know where the king is, or can track the spirits he summons.” 

“Don’t you think Yugyeom would find a way,” Jaebum’s voice dropped low enough and Jinyoung could feel the vibration of it through the floor. “If it means saving his friends and getting us back, do you think he  _ won’t  _ try to be a goddamn hero?” 

“He won’t if we keep him distracted.” Jinyoung should have armored his confidence and left it at believing Yugyeom wouldn’t try anything stupid. 

Jaebum’s fist lightly hit the wood beside Jinyoung’s head. “You’re gonna bring him here.” 

“If he knows the truth of other beings and realms instead of the washed out children’s fairy tales he’s read, he’ll leave danger alone. He doesn’t want his friends to die any more than you want to deal with them again. So why not give him the lore he’s searching for?” 

Jaebum loosened his fist and dropped it to grip Jinyoung’s shoulder. He hung his head and Jinyoung made their foreheads touch. “Trust me, please? Like you always do. No one will die this time, Jaebum. I promise.” 

Jinyoung circled his arms around Jaebum and he gave in, burying his head in the crook of Jinyoung’s neck. 

 

*

 

As it turned out, Jackson called to request Jaebum’s assistance for their next service client, so he left to meet him right away. Jinyoung hoped it would be almost therapeutic for him and he’d come back calmer and a little more forgiving. 

The library entrance was entirely hidden, more than their stairs to the second floor. It wasn’t merely an invisible curtain, but the entrance itself existed only for them. They had no idea if someone from the other realm was going to tumble in and strike them down for not having found the soul of the king yet, or if something with a desire for burning would ever bust down their doors. Having their written history magically blocked off, yet still part of the house, kept their physical knowledge safe from those wanting to harm everything they’d collected and kept. 

Even if it wasn’t spelled, none of their guests had ever been free to roam the left wing, so they would never have found it without help. It also meant that anyone coming back from the library had the advantage to strike or attack, and that wasn’t a comfortable scenario with strangers. But, he knew Yugyeom wasn’t going to plan a sneak attack, so he was confident in clearing him for entering.

Jinyoung paused near the beginning of the hall, peeking into the living room instead of scaring the poor kids. They were always rushing about and Jinyoung had yet to get a proper look at them, to see the uniqueness in each of their faces. 

Outside of the chocolate shade of Youngjae’s hair, there was something warm and inviting, a natural radiance that made Jinyoung want to sit with him at an imaginary cool kids table. He wanted to be the one to keep him safe so he could keep smiling and laughing, hitting his friends on the shoulders whenever they made a bad joke. He hoped Youngjae would trust him a bit like Yugyeom began to, and would seek him out for guidance or comfort, for whatever the weeks ahead brought them. He also didn’t miss the mole under his right eye, and noticed Yugyeom’s matching one. 

He didn’t  remember Yugyeom’s hair being bright yellow the first time they met, but it was now. His overall style still seemed lowkey and geared for both comfort and fashion, which made his outfits consist mostly of minimalistic colors. His eyes cutely closed when he smiled at Bambam gesturing wildly in the space around them, an arm on each of his friends’ shoulders. Jinyoung would not have singled Yugyeom out as the bookworm of the group, but he kept a positive atmosphere and knew how to talk to people--how to approach them, and to Jinyoung’s ultimate dismay, see through them. 

Bambam seemed to be an opposite and altogether a combination of the others. For universal witch laws, Jinyoung guessed Bambam acted as the group’s balance. He could keep the mood or drop the mood when necessary, make them laugh just by standing and doing a dance weirder than the chicken dance as he flopped and turned on his heels. And his mole was under his left eye, as the true middle and balance between Yugyeom and Youngjae. 

Jinyoung stopped believing in Fate’s big plans since nothing fateful ever happened to them, but he knew the goddesses had brought those three together for a reason. Maybe they had just as long and interesting of a story as Jinyoung’s group did. 

“If you’re cursing us with your mind, it won’t work,” Bambam suddenly appeared in front of Jinyoung. “Youngjae hyung giggled after seeing you stare. You’re caught, my dude.” He emphasized  _ my dude  _ as if he owned the word swag. It was simultaneously enraging and endearing.

Jinyoung cleared his throat and straightened his posture, coming fully into the center of the living room and Bambam trailed next to him. “I wasn’t staring. I was observing. It’s different,” he shrugged. 

“ _ Observe  _ anything interesting, Witch-nim?” Bambam teased with his hands in his pockets. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Just that you’re the one I want to save least.” 

Bambam visibly stiffened. “Wow, usually people say that about Gyeommie.” 

“Do not,” Yugyeom protested. 

“Yes! Remember the time we asked Mrs. Han who she would save if we were both dangling off a cliff? She said she’d make you fall first and leave me to climb back up alone.” 

Yugyeom groaned at the tale and Youngjae barked like a seal laughing. “You really asked her that?” 

“It was Gyeom’s idea; he didn’t believe that she hated him.” 

Yugyeom quickly accepted his defeat. “Yeah, she hated me.” 

Jinyoung couldn’t help the fond smile spreading on his face. They had a contagious energy and no matter the antics they caused, he was willing to protect them. Surprisingly, the three squished into one side of the couch and left a space for Jinyoung to sit, and he graciously folded into the corner they gave him. “So, how did you all meet?” Yugyeom knew a part of his story, so he was willing to learn theirs. 

Youngjae and Yugyeom had known each other in high school, but were more acquaintances than anything else. Yugyeom relied on him more when he was accepted at the same university, texting and calling when he was lost and anxious and stressed. They’d get coffee every once in awhile, and have escape sessions at Youngjae’s since his complex was closer to campus. And then, in the middle of winter, Yugyeom walked his normal routine through campus, but he was lucky enough to hit one section the maintenance didn’t salt. The sole of his boot slipped and he didn’t catch himself in time, but Bambam had been walking behind him and saved them both from slipping and bruising their skulls. 

It was just a brief, choice encounter, but in Spring they had a general requirement class in common--communications and public speaking. Yugyeom praised Bambam’s Korean comprehension during that class, but during the story Bambam animatedly disagreed and confessed that he often asked Yugyeom for help in placing a word or phrase and had him double check his grammar, even though Yugyeom sometimes said it was better than his own writing. 

Youngjae pitched in when he thought they were missing details and argued with them over how Bambam was introduced to Youngjae, Yugyeom thinking he introduced them, but Bambam sided with the older when he said they had actually met separately when Youngjae was leaving the tutoring center and Bambam was walking back to his dorm. The path was more wet than icy, and the younger’s bag ripped open and most of his notebooks scattered along the ground. Youngjae helped him carry everything to his dorm, and then the next time they met was with Yugyeom in the student library. 

Because Yugyeom needed to find the name of something dark and unbelievable that he only remembered the feeling of. 

“When he was researching, he looked worse than Bammie did with the possession thing.” 

“We had to have an intervention at the park,” Bambam said sadly. 

“Did you ever find what it was?” Jinyoung asked. At some point during their trials and tales, his legs extended to rest across their laps. 

Yugyeom absently picked the small pieces of dust off Jinyoung’s pant leg and shook his head. “It’s hard to find something based on visualized  _ feelings _ .” 

“He’d probably know, Gyeom,” Youngjae softly encouraged, ruffling his hair.

Yugyeom was quiet for another few minutes, still picking at Jinyoung’s pants. They gave him the time and space needed to build up his walls, letting him speak only when he was ready. He took a quick breath in and began with his eyes closed. “It was just an overwhelming cold, like down to the root of my bones. Not a chilling cold, but  _ stilling _ .” The pain was clear in his expression, eyebrows drawn together and his eyes closed tighter; he gripped Jinyoung’s leg for mental stability. “It was coming for my heart and lungs and I couldn’t breathe or move; I was paralysed in every sense of the word.” 

Jinyoung had only heard rumors of something similar when infant mortality rates were higher; when babies were found lifeless in their cribs and cradles for no reason other than assumed maltreatment or suffocation. Even when they were perfectly healthy, crib deaths still happened and grieving parents turned to blaming something in the air, or blaming each other, when really there wasn’t anything within their categories to blame. 

“It’s strange,” Jinyoung accidently slipped, but now he was forced to connect his thoughts aloud. “In the times of Babylon, the phenomenon was attributed to a demon god known as Larbatu, who stole away the souls of infants when they slept. Some blame Lilith and her cohorts. For many others, it’s simply a subgenre of demon, called just as it is--a Night Terror, seeking escaped souls and taking them back.” 

Yugyeom went pale. “But, those are all cases of infants. Why would it have chosen me?” 

Jinyoung shook his head. “Maybe there was an essence that made it  _ think  _ you needed to be stolen.” He was certain Yugyeom didn’t have an eternally infantilized soul--not with his curious knowledge and open mind. It was possible he had more of a Peter Pan syndrome, never quite wanting to grow up past the age of ten, so he had a childlike view of the world, even if he was aware of the terrible things happening within it. “How did you survive it?” 

He glanced down and fidgeted with his hands just above Jinyoung’s pant fabric. “Boringly, my alarm went off.” 

“And then he didn’t sleep for like, two whole weeks!” Bambam added. “He was not pretty.” Yugyeom hit him for that. “Well, you weren’t.” 

“He even cried when we finally forced him to sleep, but he wasn’t alone. He had us, and he still fought it like a baby.” Youngjae softened when he smiled at Yugyeom, playing the memory in his head. He caressed the youngest’s cheek and slid his palm up until his fingers threaded into the side of his hair, revealing the shaved undercut hiding beneath his length, and Yugyeom leaned into the touch. “You were cute, but it was worrisome.” He looked to Jinyoung. “Why wouldn’t it have tried again?” 

“Even outside of demons, there is always a limited time frame for any creature. The opening for Night Terrors is only in the dark hour, or the witching hour, as some prefer.” Jinyoung never understood the connection because witches did not often bring mayhem and doom, or steal children under the moonlight. There were several occasions where the witches living in this realm were falsely accused of carrying out Hell’s worst Earthly tragedies, when really it was the people themselves framing them, the shadows stalking the night, or angels fighting a war so large it needed more ground, affecting humanity and the existence of the realm itself. 

Jinyoung never fucked with an angel, and he did almost run into one, but turned right around and forgot he ever saw anything. He kept up with the witching hour label only because it was the busiest time for activity and false alarms--the insomniacs and the ones woken up by surprise often roused their coven from rest to save them from an invisible attack, like the shadows of a tree or the floorboards creaking from whatever pet they owned. It was all a mess, but they always handled it. 

“If their target doesn’t behave routinely,” Jinyoung continued, “it’ll count as a failure or they’ll be ordered to move on, or they run out of time completely and just dissipate. Your Terror either waited too long, or had to give up when you didn’t sleep; sleeping with others is also the best deterrent, like having barriers or protectors. If something is there to harm  _ you _ , it can’t do anything in case it will harm the other person or people with you.” Jinyoung clasped his hands together and stretched towards the ceiling, letting his head drop onto the arm of the couch. “They may be sinister and evil, but they still have rules to follow. Every being does.” 

“So, you have rules, too?” Bambam nudged Jinyoung’s foot with his knee. 

“In a way we do. They were called codes and morals--what was fair and reasonable to use against those without power or a solid form, and what was right for those with magic to know and not know. So, even between us, our own magic differs. I can’t conjure fire or heal that well, but I can seal off spaces, and block sound from travelling too far, or ease the pain just enough to reach a healer.” 

“Different statuses,” Yugyeom said like he just solved the missing link in the chain of evolution. 

“Yeah, different statuses,” Jinyoung breathed out. He never liked thinking about what he used to be, and how much he loved it despite the stresses. Being from a royal family was not easy, but being disowned from one was the only nightmare Jinyoung ever experienced. 

They sensed his hesitance and didn’t ask for more. He lifted his legs off their laps and sat properly, stretching now from side to side. The topic was over when both Youngjae and Bambam’s stomachs growled in unison. 

“Witch-nim,” Youngjae whined, arm curled against his belly. 

“You brought food, didn’t you?” Jinyoung pulled out his phone and texted Jaebum. He didn’t know what him and Jackson were up to, but there was something unnerving about just being called  _ witch _ in this realm, especially after everything they had already been through with these three. It hadn’t seemed like much in the time given, but he felt there was a small enough distance between them now. He didn’t want to incur Jaebum’s wrath again by making an individual decision and have them formally use hyung without permission, so he thought it safer to have Jaebum text an emoji in response if he agreed, and to not respond at all if he wasn’t comfortable or wanted to talk further. 

“Yeah, but we don’t know where the dishes are. We only found chopsticks the other day by pure chance,” Bambam sheepishly said. 

“Okay,” Jinyoung forced a sigh, pretending that standing was the worst thing they could have asked him to do. Youngjae trailed behind him first and took the tupperwares out of the fridge and set them on the island. Jinyoung pointed to the cupboards with his phone, explaining where the bowls and plates were, the cups and he didn’t forget to mention the top shelf was full of very specific cups and Mark would set Jinyoung and the three humans on fire if anyone touched them. 

It wasn’t anything magical, but it held all their sentiments of surviving and experiencing this realm, and even if they had the memories locked away, the physical reminders of them were not to be broken. 

Just at the tail end of his kitchen tour, his phone vibrated, and Jaebum had sent a single emoji--the middle finger. Jinyoung shrugged to himself and made a mental note to suck Jaebum’s middle finger later when he returned. The man was so stubborn sometimes and didn’t like to let Jinyoung off easy, even though he constantly got over their arguments after time away. 

“Do you want some, Witch-nim? We can just eat from the containers,” Yugyeom hugged Youngjae from behind and Bambam came up beside them. 

“Witch-nim is really outdated. Hyung is fine, but it might be safer to use hyungnim with everyone else.” Jinyoung wasn’t going to test those limits again. It was better to let them decide on honorifics individually. “But, yes, I’ll eat with you guys.” Jinyoung opened the drawer by the stove and dug out enough chopsticks and spoons for four people. While they warmed everything that needed heating, Jinyoung scrambled up some spam and eggs, throwing it in with rice and instead of the living room, they all just stood at the island, eating what they wanted and throwing around jokes and stories, moving into a peaceful silence the fuller they got. 

As they put what was left back into the fridge, Jackson and Jaebum stumbled in, looking unmarked and happy, but there was a soreness beneath Jaebum’s grin. Mark ran through the living room and stole the bag from Jaebum’s hand, doubling around back down the left hall. And the only time Mark sped like that for food was--

“Fried chicken,” Jinyoung exasperated. He walked right up to Jaebum, challenging. “You two,” he included Jackson in his finger-pointing game, “ate fried chicken and brought extras home for only Mark hyung?” He was truly pained. It was the worst betrayal, and that was probably why Jaebum did it. 

“Says the one who cooked spam.” That came from Jackson. 

Jinyoung’s mouth dropped. “I did  _ nothing  _ of the sort.” 

Jaebum casually leaned sideways and peered into the kitchen, seeing the three amigos and the pans still sitting on the counter to be cleaned. “Are you saying  _ they  _ cooked in  _ my  _ house?” 

“It’s  _ our  _ house, and what if they did, hyung?” Jinyoung stood on his toes, but it didn’t make him appear more menacing. It only riled Jaebum until he grabbed Jinyoung’s wrist and pulled him down the hall. Embarrassingly, he yelped at the sudden movement and told Jackson to write him a perfect eulogy, and to let the kids attend his funeral, no matter Jaebum’s orders. It would be his final wish, just to piss him off even after death. 

But Jinyoung knew he would be fine; Jaebum wasn’t frustrated directly at the kids, but whatever job he had with Jackson stayed with him, and it wasn’t something fried chicken and arguing could cure. 

It was something kissing Jinyoung against the wall before closing the bedroom door would cure. It was something taking a bath after falling apart under each other’s hands would heal and mend, ending their recent arguments altogether. 

 

*

 

Jinyoung woke up later than usual with Jackson plastered to his back. He told him that Mark and Jaebum wanted to go shopping for a few things anyway, and decided to drive the kids to campus. The pit in Jinyoung’s stomach dropped and he feared the trouble they would cause together. There were several reasons why they had made a rule that it was either Mark or Jaebum, not Mark  _ and _ Jaebum. Not even for errands. He nervously made pancakes for him and Jackson and he ate them too fast, and the blonde reached out to force his fork down for a good thirty seconds before Jinyoung fidgeted with something else. 

When the door opened, his fork fell to the kitchen floor and panged a few more times before settling flat along the tile. 

“We got you new plants, Jackson,” Mark announced. 

But his hair was  _ pink _ . It was not pink last night. Jaebum tried to shuffle in around him, keeping his arms behind his back and never facing away. 

His hair was back to silver. Jinyoung knew his hair hadn’t been silver since Jackson discovered a way to create a special dye shampoo to keep his hair black in this realm. 

“What else did you bring home?” Jinyoung felt his right eye twitch when he crossed his arms over his chest. “What could possibly eat your hair color?” 

“Nothing? Uhh, we went to a salon and had it lightened. That’s all,” Jaebum lied through his perfect, white teeth. 

Jinyoung was going to destroy them someday. “I’m taking your Mark hyung privileges away for a week if you don’t tell me what you brought into our house, hyung.” 

“ _ Okay!  _ She was in the trash can and it really wasn’t going to work out nice and--” 

“She?” Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. He really did not like where this was going. 

Jaebum sighed and caved, bringing his arms forward. “Firecat.” 

Jinyoung threw his arms up and let them hit his sides. “Firecat! Hear that, Jackson? A fucking  _ firecat _ !” 

Jackson whimpered and cowered behind Jinyoung. “Did you learn nothing from Peaches?” Jackson screeched. “Is that a  _ welt _ ? She scratched you?!” 

“She was scared,” Jaebum pouted. “And she’s not at all like Peaches because Peaches was a genderless firecat with a tragic background. Don’t compare them like that. It’s insulting.” 

Free to move, Mark entered the kitchen and unpacked the groceries, along with a couple smaller spice plants Jackson needed. “It’s not like there’s a firecat shelter. Might as well let Jaebummie keep her,” Mark argued.  

Jinyoung could hear her purring from where he stood raging inside, her flames calming and head bowing when Jaebum lifted her for a nose kiss. Jinyoung hated how easily animals of any kind took to Jaebum, and he knew he had talked to her the entire way home, kept her in his lap even though it burned holes in his jeans and left marks on his skin. He had rescued her, but there always questionable behavioral issues with firecats. 

Exactly like Peaches. 

Mark was right, as always, though. There wasn’t any shelter willing to take an animal whose lifeforce relied on flames and setting things on fire by accident from time to time. And leaving her out to survive alone would have spelled more trouble than they ever needed. 

“Fine,” Jinyoung grit his teeth. “But any sign of damage or harm to the yard, this house, or anyone currently living in it, she’s getting extinguished.” 

“What’d you name her?” Jackson questioned, never looking away from admiring his own new friends. 

Jaebum held her gently across his forearm and pet her head with his freehand. “Nora,” he said, fond smile spreading wider. 

Jinyoung watched Mark and Jackson set up a burn-free zone for her to wander in until she was calmer and comfortable with everyone and the house, and Jackson tended to Jaebum’s heat-scratch until Jaebum sucked air through his teeth and yelped for him to stop disinfecting it. “Not that I’m doing it on purpose hyung, but you deserve it,” was all Jackson said through the ordeal. 

Jaebum didn’t respond and Jinyoung hoped their great leader finally realized he also made individual, snap decisions that weren’t always about the betterment of the coven. This one was about him and his sensitivities, and he followed his heart without discussing it with everyone. 

They glanced at each other and then away, Jaebum at Nora and Jinyoung at the wall just above her, and that was that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip peaches you were too rogue for this world
> 
> if u have comments or criticisms i'm on [twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	4. Scene IV

It was finally Friday evening and instead of getting their homework done as soon as possible, they all took a much deserved break. Youngjae had somehow roped Jaebum away from Nora long enough to play a few rounds of Mario Kart, and Mark and Jackson stole Bambam for something Yugyeom did not want to ask about; he was too busy experiencing his own variety of doubt and nerves because Jinyoung had grabbed his hand and pulled him down the left hall, simply saying he had something to show him. 

Whatever that meant. 

Yugyeom walked on in silence, praying he wasn’t being led towards something dark and dangerous, like a trap. He squeezed Jinyoung’s hand tighter because it was the only thing he had to ground his curious fears without letting them consume him. Jinyoung just glanced back, a gentle grin set on his face and musically he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll love it.” 

They reached the end of the hall, and when Jinyoung touched the wall, a door appeared, which opened to reveal a narrow, steep staircase spiraling down. The temperature shift was highly noticeable. Yugyeom shivered and only a shadowy darkness laid ahead. He was watching every step he took until they hit seemingly level ground. Jinyoung snapped his fingers once and the whole basement flickered to life under the warm light of several hanging, rounded fixtures. The floor was made of cobblestone, the walls were unstained natural wood to match the outside of the house, and if it hadn’t been filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves upon bookshelves, Yugyeom knew it would have been a witch’s dungeon with poisonous plants and cauldrons and bottles of questionable origins. 

Instead, there were a couple of desks towards the back, tucked against the corners, and a small fireplace straight ahead set into the opposite wall. Yugyeom didn’t think the underground basement was a legal place to have a fireplace, but he also figured they were witches and spelled it to be safe. It was like a cozy escape house and library all in one. The ceilings were surprisingly high for an underground level, and every set of bookcases were connected by matching wood arches. It was a place he just wanted to curl up and nap. It felt like he could breathe easier despite the heavy cold surrounding them. 

Yugyeom wanted to live here. “Can I live down here?” 

Yugyeom noticed Jinyoung’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he giggled low and open. “If you want to freeze to death, go right ahead.” 

Yugyeom scanned everything over again before heading down the first row. His fingers danced along the dark wood shelves, picking up no dust. Everything was well preserved and protected--probably spelled--he reminded himself. “How is there an entire  _ library _ ? What even is all of this?” There was a rather thick volume, bound in a deep brown colored leather with lighter brown ribbing along the spine. He carefully pulled it forward and examined the cover, which had no title or indication of subject matter. He didn’t want to open something without permission, so he quietly slid it back in place. 

Jinyoung followed in his steps, watching him amusedly. “It’s our truths. Sacred texts, analyses on how incantations changed over time periods, potions and recipes, encyclopedias on every being we know of--even our own fairytales and superstitions that were recited to us as children.” 

Yugyeom’s hand followed the curve around to the other side of the bookcase. On the fourth shelf near the end was a navy blue spine, cracking and color distorted from time and use, but it had a vertical stamping of the phases of the moon. When he pulled it out, the cover had a title written in small, calligraphic script:  _ Moon Ailments and Healing _ . It was slimmer than the other volume he had picked up, but when he fully grasped it and brought it off the shelf, it seemed to weigh twenty pounds. “How is it so heavy?” 

“Open it.” Jinyoung sidled next to him and leaned his head nearly against his shoulder. 

Yugyeom was worried it would be a trap, or a jumpscare, something he’d end up punching the older witch for, but he loved the pursuit of knowledge and gaining answers to his curiosity more than he liked being respectful and non-violent. He sucked in a breath and gently lifted the cover. The first couple pages were blank and golden with age, and then the next few seemed to be instructions, a manual on how to align a stone with the elements of nature and connect it to the spirit of one’s blood for medicinal and healing purposes. It gave a list of common ailments and which phase was best suited for a rapid cure. And when Yugyeom turned through a few more lists and phases, there was a solid board attached to the page before the middle, and the other side of the book had an open space, which contained the specific stone. 

Jinyoung shifted to stand in front of Yugyeom and carefully slid his hands under the open cover. “Here, go ahead. Take it,” he whispered. 

Yugyeom let his hands softly fall and with his thumb and forefinger, he lifted the stone from its boxed alcove. The bulk of the weight came from the amethyst geode that worked as both the setting and a stand for the large, oval cabochon of rainbow moonstone that had been faceted somehow to the inside of the geode. It was definitely more than a statement piece to have laying around on the coffee table. He wasn’t even a witch and he was buzzing with the raw, cleansing aura it produced. He quickly thought of modern depictions of magical relics, thinking the stone maybe belonged atop a magical staff. “It’s beautiful,” Yugyeom sighed in awe. “Does it really heal?” 

“It is limited, but when aided by a high enough calibur of witch, it can do a lot more.” 

Yugyeom moved his hand slightly down so he could look at Jinyoung. “Any of you?” 

“Jaebum hyung could once,” Jinyoung’s smile fell only for a split second, and Yugyeom didn’t miss it, “and Jackson can, but his lack of control makes it a bit unpredictable,” he shrugged and half-smiled. Yugyeom carefully placed the stone back in the book and Jinyoung closed it. Instead of returning it to the shelf, Jinyoung held it out. “Why don’t you take it for awhile?” 

Yugyeom sputtered and choked on air. “I should  _ what _ now?” 

Jinyoung took one step closer until the edge of the book touched Yugyeom’s chest. “Take it, Yugyeom. It hasn’t seen the outside of this library in forty years. Let it have some air.” 

“But this is a connection to  _ real magic _ , hyung. What if something happens to it?” Yugyeom folded his fingers over the book, uncertain. 

Jinyoung didn’t release it just yet. “The stone itself is protected. Nothing will ever happen to it, outside of say, misplacing it? And if something ever happens to the actual book, well,” he chuckled darkly, “just hope that doesn’t happen.” 

“Then why would you let me have this?” He shrieked. “I’m not dying before I graduate college and have an adult job after, like bartending or something.” 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes, and basically his whole head with the force of it. “Why does everyone always go the death route? Not every witch’s spell is violent doom.” He took the book from Yugyeom’s hands to hit him on the head with it. Yugyeom rubbed at the dull ache. “It’s special, but not fragile. I wouldn’t trust you to care for it if I thought you’d even accidentally destroy it.” Jinyoung waved it around in one hand just to prove his point. 

Yugyeom was still worried, but he supposed that was why Jinyoung trusted him with this; it wouldn’t be cared for if he wasn’t worried about keeping it safe. So, he closed his eyes and calmed his thoughts of potential accidents racing through his mind, and he reached for it with both hands. Jinyoung handed it over without another thought, and Yugyeom hugged it to his chest. “What can I do with it?” 

Jinyoung led him around the library this time, and he touched the shelves and spines of their lore and life just as Yugyeom did. “Read it and find out. There are a surprising amount of people born in this realm who can use the natural energy of the earth for good. Maybe you’re one of them.” 

Yugyeom had desperately tried to be one of them. He read every book he could find on stones and gems and rocks and how the ocean or the moon had a sway on what was effective. Nothing came of it. It didn’t help his dreams or clear his mind or take away past woes and mistakes he obsessed over. Nothing cleaned his veins of the Night Terror he still sometimes dreamt about and woke up paralyzed all over again, even though it wasn’t there. He hadn’t been able to harness any healing or clarifying energy. He had the knowledge and the ability to sense its energy, and no skill to use it. 

“I’m not,” he laughed dejectedly. “I’m not one of them.” 

“You never know. People change, stones differ, combinations and intended uses mean something. That one might surprise you.” The way he said it was like he had a secret he wouldn’t ever tell Yugyeom.

“Right.” He almost started to believe Jinyoung. 

They perused the basement level a little longer, mostly in comfortable conversation. Jinyoung would find an old journal of an ancestor he hadn’t touched in ages and animatedly recount the tales scribbled within. He excitedly showed the shelf dedicated to Jackson’s recipe and potion books, most of them in ancient, dead, and lost languages and dialects. Yugyeom was surprised half of them contained recipes for home cooked, edible foods. One of them struck at a witch’s reputation in this realm and suggested, “To seem even more like a witch and scare guests off, cook the soups and stews in a hardy cauldron in the center of the room. For best results, perform on a full moon to imply a sacrifice is necessary.” 

Yugyeom laughed so hard he ended up trying to melt into Jinyoung. “But the dish already has meat! You guys said that was sacrifice enough.” 

Jinyoung talked with his hand covering his mouth to hide his smile. “Since you mentioned it, we’ll sacrifice you next time.” 

Yugyeom gripped Jinyoung’s arm and laughed harder. 

When they recovered from the brighter moments, they wandered again and Jinyoung pointed out the corner of found books, left behind from the immoral witches and dangerous spirits they handled; not all of them were killed, the loss of their texts a worse punishment than ending their mortality. Some of the books were proxies and rebuilt incantations to form something darker; something previously outside the witches original morals. Finding the loopholes of their magic was never easy, so when a witch successfully did it, it wasn’t ever positive or freeing.   

Yugyeom didn’t like the sad, painful nostalgia returning to Jinyoung’s face. It was like he remembered a horrific war, or multiple wars. He gently pushed Jinyoung and they moved on. There was another fixture against the wall with several types of plants, all shapes and sizes, and some Yugyeom didn’t even think were from here. “Jackson hyung’s?” 

“Yup. Specific species that thrive without warmth and sunlight. Once they’ve bloomed and grown, they won’t die or hibernate until they’re cut and harvested.” Yugyeom walked up to touch one of them, with vines crawling along the grated shelves, but Jinyoung forced his hand to stop. “That one’s poisonous.” 

“So you do kill people,” Yugyeom narrowed his eyes at the older. 

“No, he cooks it up for antidotes. Brat,” he hit the top of Yugyeom’s head with his palm. Right where he had hit him with the book. “If he wasn’t magic, he would own an apothecary. He brings in extra money with his home-remedies and herbal combinations, anyway. Even I’ve experienced troubles our magic couldn’t cure, but whatever he made helped.” 

“Oh.” Yugyeom felt ridiculous now. They really weren’t all doom and gloom and death. He took a few steps back from the plants to be safe, and noticed the door next to the fixture. “And what’s that one?” 

“Jaebum hyung’s darkroom. At the time cameras started, we weren’t really making anything. We traipsed around as exorcists, much like we still do, but at the time it was easier to be tied to a church and charity. Anything else we tried to do on the side would very much be seen as witch activity and we would have been chopped as a public warning. But as the witch trial age died out and diseases needed curing and people conjured more spirits than the church could handle, we broke off and were able to create our own businesses. So, Jaebum hyung bought his first film camera and he really doesn’t go anywhere without one. Some of his cameras have too rare of film, though.” 

“What kind of pictures does he take?” Yugyeom was genuinely interested in their personal hobbies, and for as extreme as Jaebum seemed, photography was something that required sentimentality and a type of tenderness Yugyeom didn’t expect to see from him. 

“Nature? Sometimes the aftermath of a mission if something better was born from it,” Jinyoung paused. He glanced down, almost shyly and his lips curled up naturally. “Sometimes us. Candids, usually. We know when he’s taking polaroids, though, because he’ll ask us to stay still or move a bit closer.” 

“Sounds like he loves you.” Yugyeom felt he had a similar relationship with Youngjae and Bambam, just without the time to take polaroids or film shots of them. He had several candids on his phone, and he loved every single one, no matter how ugly and meme-like they were. 

“We’ve been through,” his shoulders came up when he sighed, “a lot. We only have this, and us. If we lose one, it’s losing more than a loved one or a family member; even worse than losing a soulmate. So, he likes having reminders and memories; he knows he isn’t the only one to carry our burdens, and if anything happens, he has photographic connections to try something ridiculously stupid.” 

Like try to resurrect them, Yugyeom guessed inwardly. It’s what he would try to do if he lost either of his friends. Instead of carrying on with the darker conversation, Yugyeom returned to the general topic of photography. “I bet he’s a melancholy aesthetic guy, like black and white and grainy.” 

“Half the time he does, but it’s hardly melancholic. Every picture of us really has an emotion behind it; he’s really amazing. He’s tried to show me tips of photography, but I’ve never been as good. It’s still fun.” 

“Yeah, it is,” he said, thinking about his digital camera roll. Just like that, the conversation naturally dropped off and they slowly walked through the center aisle to get to the door. Yugyeom hesitated leaving. “Why would you give me this? This library and sacred knowledge and access,” he held his book of Moon Ailments and Healing, “to things like this?” 

Jinyoung turned and let his back hit the door, hand around the knob. Yugyeom wasn’t going to say he looked kind of cool and confident like that. “You’ve had experiences; seen things. You’re the bookworm, curious for the next big bout of knowledge headed for your brain. This library has  _ truths _ , not guesses and maybes you’ve found in your own books and searching the internet. We figured reading them may distract you from seeking danger, and if you get into danger, these books at least have information that will work.” 

“By we, you mean Jaebum hyung,” his shoulders slumped forward. It was true Jinyoung had told Yugyeom a lot, but it wasn’t like he was going to actively seek more spirits out in case it did lead to the soul they were searching for. Yugyeom didn’t really know the first thing about any of this now that he wandered a witch-owned library. He’d be dead before even beginning a mission like that. “He knows you told me, doesn’t he?” 

Jinyoung tapped at a raised stone in the floor with his shoe. 

“I don’t have the experience or the skills you four do. There’s  _ no way  _ I’d run after this thing. I didn’t even tell Youngjae hyung and Bammie about that part because it’s not my place to. You trusted me, not them. Jaebum hyung should at least give me the benefit of the doubt, too.” 

“He hasn’t tried to know you. We’ve been here for  _ centuries _ , Yugyeom. When humans and non-magics do bad, they do worse. And we adapted to that, but I’m trying because I know you aren’t lying. All of you learned after that ugly pizza Ouija that messing with the borders is not a game.” Jinyoung stepped forward and lightly grabbed Yugyeom’s hand. “You’re still here a few more days. He’ll see eventually. Especially if you’re carrying this,” he rapped his knuckles against the book. “I have protected Jackson with my life, and nearly died for Jaebum hyung more times than I remember. If I’m trusting you with this, he’ll be conflicted by his own early judgement.” 

Yugyeom squeezed his hand, not sure if it was to help Jinyoung, or to reassure himself. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll trust you.” 

Jinyoung just squeezed his hand in return and then let go, and led them through the door. Yugyeom used the railing for a bearing in the darkness so he didn’t trip walking back up the stairs. He didn’t ask about how the door appeared, or what the rooms in this hallway were for. He didn’t want to learn so much at once that his brain malfunctioned and shut down from error or overheating, and he didn’t want to seem like he was trying to spy in on their secret world. He would find out what they wanted him to find out, and that was more than he ever imagined happening. 

Once they emerged to the beginning of the hall, they both noticed the overwhelming silence of the house. The others had been rowdy and playing games when they escaped into the basement, and now there was nothing. Yugyeom expected Bambam to surprise him from the around the corner, but when they actually entered the main space, not a soul was awake. 

Empty containers were scattered along the floor and coffee table, chopsticks laying on top of most of them. Mark stretched out on the loveseat, limbs hanging off in every direction and Bambam was sitting on the floor in front of it, with Jackson folded up half on the floor and half in Bambam’s lap. There were two abandoned controllers near both of their hands, and Yugyeom assumed they joined in Mario Kart at some point during the evening. 

His eyes scanned over to the couch. He only saw the line of Jaebum’s back and how his legs were only slightly bent; the only sign Youngjae was even among them was because his arm was loosely hanging over Jaebum’s hip. Apparently Yugyeom wasn’t the only one having a bonding experience, but he didn’t expect Jaebum of all people to be cuddling either of his friends. He pulled out his phone and took a few secret shots of the scene, not for blackmailing or anything, but just because it was a memory he wanted proof of. 

Once Yugyeom was satisfied, he placed his book atop his backpack by the window, and quietly began to clean up the aftermath of their dinner. Jinyoung gathered the controllers and other electronics and put them in the cupboard of their tv stand, and joined in helping Yugyeom. When they were both in the kitchen, he felt the same tingle he had when they talked in the bedroom. “Did you use magic?” He quietly asked. 

“Silenced us a bit; didn’t want to wake them up,” Jinyoung shrugged. 

Yugyeom didn’t say anything more. It was an odd sort of domesticity, rinsing and washing dishes with a witch, possibly older than time itself, standing beside him drying them and placing them in their cupboards, and keeping Yugyeom’s mother’s containers in a separate space.  There wasn’t a specific reason for it, but Yugyeom realized he was smiling, and Jinyoung was humming while they both worked through the kitchen space. When the last of the dishes were finished, they cooked up some ramen and vegetables and eggs, eating from a single pot at the island counter. When they were done, Jinyoung stuck the pot in the sink and filled it with water to be cleaned tomorrow. 

Yugyeom stretched up and padded to his bag to recover his book, and walking back through the kitchen he almost ran into the corner of the island. Jinyoung hurried to steady him and he chuckled softly. “Come on, let’s sleep.” 

Yugyeom was going to debate it, but there wasn’t enough time in the night left to do anything productive. Time was running into the weekend, so he figured he could slip into bed since he was exhausted, anyway. He was still having a lot of information thrown his way and his brain needed a rest, too. He let Jinyoung thread their fingers together and he led them into their main bedroom, with two king beds pushed together. Yugyeom changed into shorts and a shirt, and Jinyoung returned from the bathroom wearing a sensible plaid set of pajamas. 

They didn’t cuddle, but Jinyoung laid down on his side, and Yugyeom crawled in beside him, lying mostly on his back and kept his book hugged to his chest. Jinyoung hummed another melody and gently played with his hair. Yugyeom was sure not even ten minutes had passed before he was fast asleep under Jinyoung’s watch. 

 

* 

 

He remembered dreaming of something cold and sharp keeping his wrists and ankles pinned to nothing. He was stuck feeling the pins and needle pricks of his limbs trying to wake up and move, fighting to keep a steady blood flow. Despite the sense of bone-chilling dread, there were bright spots dancing behind his eyelids; he couldn’t open them, but he knew something was reaching for his book. For the stone. In this terrorscape, all he could do was scream. He had a voice, seemingly silent to his own ears, but it eventually echoed back between the seconds of flashing light. He screamed until his lungs collapsed and his throat was raw, hoping he hadn’t failed already. 

His limbs moved like they were attached to a string and he grit his teeth with the uncomfortable pain of it. He forgot to count his breaths but he counted the flashing lights behind his eyelids like they were stars and grounded himself until his eyes finally snapped open. Moonlight colored the ceiling and everything else were simply shadows and silhouettes. His limbs wouldn’t cooperate with the commands from his brain, and he continued to panic. 

Through his rapid breathing, he finally heard the voice trying to break through his terror. “You’re okay, Yugyeom. It’s a nightmare; you’re safe and in bed with everyone.” 

Jackson. It was Jackson talking to him. 

“H-hyung,” he stuttered between breaths. A part of him just wanted to finish waking up so he could cry out his fear. 

Jackson placed a hand on his chest and counted breaths for him, soothed him into a less dangerous state of panic. He tapped a rhythm out over his heart and it slowed, along with some warmth flowing into his bones, veins, and limbs. He asked Yugyeom a couple more simple questions for distraction: what’s his favorite color? Yellow. Favorite fruit? Strawberry. Favorite shape? Star. 

And then he realized during the questions, he had bent his arm and his hand held onto Jackson’s over his chest. Yugyeom closed his eyes and counted three more slow inhales and exhales, focusing on the rise and fall under their hands. The blankets rustled and shifted when Jackson sat up higher and he placed his other hand gently on Yugyeom’s forehead, pushing his bangs back. 

He barely whispered something, nothing more than hushed consonants and then Yugyeom watched Jackson turn awkwardly, not taking his hand out from Yugyeom’s grip. His hand lifted from Yugyeom’s forehead and ran it under and around their pillows. When he pulled it out, he had the book. “Here, it’s safe. Must’ve let it go.” 

Yugyeom released Jackson’s hand and shifted with his shoulders and hips until he was fully facing Jackson, book hugged to his chest again. “Sorry, hyung,” Yugyeom whispered, voice still trembling and calming down. 

Jackson shook his head. “You’re good. Honestly,” he yawned through the word. He stretched his arm up and his hand landed on Yugyeom’s hip. “You’ll sleep now, no problem.” 

When the blonde’s eyes closed, Yugyeom’s felt heavier and burned with the need to try and sleep again. He scooted closer to Jackson and let his presence distract him from the aftermath of his fear and worry. 

 

*

 

Yugyeom did not wake up until noon, blinking his eyes at his phone until the sleep cleared away. At least it was Saturday, but he never slept that late, no matter the time he went to bed. He heard harsh whispers and saw the shadow of someone pacing outside the cracked-open door. Groggily, he announced, “I’m not dead.” 

“Oh  _ thank  _ god,” Jackson exclaimed, walking into the bedroom. Mark stayed outside and Jinyoung followed him in. Jackson kneeled on the floor by the bed and laid his head on the edge of the mattress. Yugyeom thought it was supposed to be a bow. “I didn’t know if you’d wake up again.” 

Yugyeom sat up in bed, blanket falling into his lap. The air was immediately cooler, and he looked down to find his shirt missing from his body. “What happened to my shirt?” He blinked and ran a hand over his face, trying to find more strength to wake up. He brought his legs up to stretch them, keeping them covered with the blanket.  

“You mumbled something about a sauna and threw it at me,” Jinyoung deadpanned. “I’ve been awake since.” But how he folded his arms in front of his chest and kept a painful glare on Yugyeom made him feel Jinyoung meant he was waiting for Yugyeom to wake up just to personally murder him in broad daylight. 

“Sorry, hyung. You can throw it back to me if you want.” 

Jinyoung smirked and Yugyeom knew the blood was draining from his face. “You can get it yourself. From the living room.” His smirk grew darker and he pulled Jackson away from the bed. “Along with your shorts  _ and  _ underwear.” 

Jackson tried to protest the unfairness of it all, screeching about how Yugyeom was under a heavy sleep spell and had no idea what he was doing in reality, but Jinyoung continued to drag him out of the room. Yugyeom sighed heavily and glanced around for something smaller than the king size comforter, but there wasn’t anything. He tried to dig around in the drawers for at least a towel; he didn’t find one. He took one last breath in and prepared to lose all his dignity, make a fool out of himself after not even a week of being here. Just as he was going to meet his doom, Bambam’s howling laughter grew closer and he burst through the doorway with a set of underwear and sweatpants. “Here, Gyeom.” 

“I was hoping you’d bring me a sword instead.” Yugyeom stood out of the angle of anyone else’s vision and slipped into the clothes Bambam gave him. 

“I would have let you walk out there, but then Jaebum hyung came through the door.” Bambam leaned in toward Yugyeom. “Not sure he’s ready for that, yet,” he whispered. He giggled again and returned to the living room. 

Yugyeom was fine wandering out without a shirt, but he made sure to grab his book before he left. He kept it in his hand, arm hanging down instead of clutching it to his chest. Mark play whistled at him, and Jackson ran up to dramatically point out his imaginary abs. Youngjae laughed himself off the couch over it and Bambam just smiled, glancing up from his iPad game, and Jinyoung had an ugly smirk plastered on his face from where he sat by the coffee table on the floor. 

Yugyeom waved them all off and made a quick sandwich, eating it in the kitchen and he headed down the left hall. He kept his footsteps in line and never strayed into the other rooms. He reached the end and put his hand where he remembered Jinyoung had. 

The door didn’t appear. 

“Come on.” He didn’t think Jinyoung would show him the library and then deny him access to it. He used his other hand, used the cover of the book--the front and back--and still, nothing happened. He leaned his forehead against the wall to think, think, think, bonking his head in case it unlocked the secrets to the magic curtain. And when he pulled away, the door was there. 

Was Jinyoung serious? Yugyeom had to literally use his head to get into the library? 

That was not going to work out for long. 

He breathed out and followed the shadow of the stairs down. The lights were already on in the library and Jaebum was sitting in front of the fireplace, folded up in a chair with a fleece blanket and a stack of books on the floor beside him. His hair was silver, bangs messily covering his forehead and a couple strands fell over his eyes. He wore a black hoodie and loose fitting jeans. Both his hands were decorated with silver band rings, a variety of stones faceted to them, and a chain bracelet on his left wrist. Honestly, despite his intimidating jewelry, Yugyeom  almost believed he was approachable--someone he could sit in front of without feeling awkward or clammy. He wouldn’t be wondering when the man was going to strangle him and steal the trust Jinyoung gifted him, or wonder when he’d interrogate him for information he didn’t have. 

Jaebum turned the page of his book with such care, like he was handling a piece of already shattered glass and didn’t want to cut his finger picking it up. Like this, Yugyeom could see that Jaebum wasn’t  _ bad _ . Jinyoung was right and Yugyeom knew that, but he wanted to be trusted; he wanted to be one of the ones that didn’t run head first into danger that would summon more evil into the world. And he wanted everyone in the coven to see that. 

“You’ll burn a hole if you stare any longer,” Jaebum said, breaking Yugyeom out of his thoughts. He hadn’t once looked up from his book. “Put a damn shirt on, it’s cold,” but he set down his book and grabbed something from behind his chair. It was another throw blanket and he tossed it at Yugyeom nonchalantly, opening to the same page without any other signs of sympathy. 

Yugyeom just barely caught the blanket. “T-thanks,” he slightly bowed. He was far too nervous, but he sat near the fireplace on the floor and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “Where’s Nora?” 

“Working on her control. She’s been shedding flames.” 

“Probably nervous in a new place like regular, not-flaming cats.” He saw Jaebum raise an eyebrow, but it was gone in an instant. The older witch grunted in what Yugyeom hoped was agreement and they fell into silence again, accompanied by the false crackling of the fireplace and the turning of pages. Yugyeom curled up and began reading the tiny font of his instruction manual. 

He mostly kept to himself, but there were a few characters and strokes he didn’t recognize and Jaebum told him they were a reference to languages from the other realm that can’t exist here. He did what he could to explain their meaning and then they went back to their own materials. 

Yugyeom turned the stone in his hand as he read on, hoping the more time he spent holding it, the quicker his connection would build. A couple hours passed and Jaebum set his book down atop the rest of his stack. “You’re nothing if not diligent. I see why Jinyoungie’s taken to you.” He abandoned his blanket and slid onto the floor in front of Yugyeom, stealing the book and putting it to the side. Yugyeom reached for it, but Jaebum took both Yugyeom’s hands in his. “You won’t learn how to connect with it by reading.” 

He adjusted Yugyeom’s posture, making him sit taller with his spine straight, shoulders aligned with his hips, and his elbows rested on his knees, where his legs were criss-crossed. Jaebum had him cup the stone carefully in his palms, Jaebum’s hands beneath them. “Everything in magic, whether natural or witch-born, is born from grounding--learning how the energy of the stones flow along with, and outside of, the existing universe.” 

Yugyeom closed his eyes. 

Jaebum talked him through it, voice calm and steady, like it was born from the damp earth after trying to survive among the stars. The tone rumbled through his bones and he felt his spine tickle. The sides of his feet were cold where the open floor touched them; his arms were warm from the fleece holding in the comfort of the fireplace. He could hear the pipes clank faintly in the distance where water rushed through them to feed the necessities of the house. The floor above creaked with the footsteps of others, and all he saw behind his eyelids was  _ life _ . 

Everything moved and shifted and rose and fell, rushed to meet the beginning or the end or the exit leading to a new opening. The geode weighed more when he concentrated on it, knowing even this was carved from the caves and mountains and made to contain its own version of life. His feet began to ache where they pressed harder against the cold, stone floor and his fingers began to spark, the energy buzzing through his blood like it had the first time he touched the geode. 

He saw dawn and dusk and the time in between, the flowers that bloomed in Spring dying and hibernating through Autumn and Winter, trees losing their leaves but never being cut down because the roots reached too far and too deep for that. He remembered going to the beach when he was ten; how it rained instead, and the waves crashed harshly against the shore like they were trying to swallow him whole. But the ocean wasn’t the world he belonged in, and the waves merely splashed his legs. 

The geode represented the push and pull of universal laws, protecting what was naturally  _ right _ . 

And that’s how it could heal differently depending on the moon, just as the ocean depended on the pull of gravity from the moon to sway. It filtered through current energies to feel what was supposed to be right, and transfer it onto someone else, or dispel it into the air to die. 

Yugyeom opened his eyes. Jaebum sat comfortably in front of him, curiously observing. “Find it?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom brought the geode closer to his heart, “I think that helped a lot.” He glanced back at Jaebum. “Thank you, hyungnim.” 

Jaebum’s nose scrunched and he waved in front of his face. “Just hyung.” He stood up with ease. “A few more meditations like that and you might even be able to find it if you misplace it, or have it stolen.” 

Yugyeom wasn’t going to leave it in a place where he wasn’t. The geode went back into the book and his stomach growled. Jaebum told him he had actually been inside his mind for a few hours, but that it had been too dangerous to leave him alone in that state. Jaebum then brought them up for dinner and he took a seat between Youngjae and Jinyoung on the couch and Yugyeom squished in the middle of Jackson and Bambam on the loveseat. 

The rest of the evening he observed Jaebum quietly, watching how easily Jinyoung could get him to relax and laugh, and how genuine his smile was when he interacted with Youngjae. Yugyeom did some of his classwork while they devolved into various screeches and yells, playing number games and card games because they wagered humiliating dares, and it seemed the coven wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to humiliate either of his friends. 

At the very least, Yugyeom thought, at the end of whatever this was, they’d have somewhere to come to just for laughs. 

In a way, maybe they were meant to meet, filling in the cracks of both groups that neither realized existed. Yugyeom thought maybe they’d be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would y'all start messing with magic if jinyoung gave you that book 
> 
> as always i'm here for q's and anything else: [my cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor) and [my twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor)


	5. Scene V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the new trauma tags aren't super heavy in this chapter but it does kinda become reoccurring from this point on so figured it was better to add it now

The rest of the week flew by in a blur of their new routine: attending classes, hopping on a bus and walking through the treeline to reach the coven’s house, eating dinner either in the kitchen or scattered among the living room as everyone played some kind of game, or exchanged horror stories. 

No one asked if the tales Mark told were actually true or not because frankly, none of them wanted to know. Yugyeom sat in the library more and meditated with his healing geode, mostly because it was where he first learned how to connect with its energy and it was easier to relax into the mindset he needed to call to it. The sound of Jaebum’s voice, along with his words were imprinted on Yugyeom’s brain, and he fell deeper and deeper into the awareness of life itself. 

No one reminded the coven of their original seven-day deadline, so they didn’t end up going back to their respective homes until the following weekend. They had been at this house for only one and a half weeks, but just being driven away from the property interrupted the schedule they created. Youngjae actually seemed reluctant to go back to an empty apartment, but Yugyeom didn’t want him and his friends to overstay, either. The time limit had passed, which hopefully meant the house had cleansed them of any darkness that had attracted the other paranormal incidents. 

Jaebum ended up driving them home. Mark was free, too, but Jinyoung said under no circumstances was Mark allowed to go. Yugyeom honestly felt a little sorry for him, doing the return drive alone, but it wasn’t like his house was very far from the coven’s. They dropped Bambam off at his dorm first, and then Youngjae at his complex, and Yugyeom rode shotgun the rest of the way to his house. 

They stopped outside his driveway and Yugyeom slung his bags over his shoulder and went to open the car door, but Jaebum put a hand to his chest to stop him. He kept his gaze on the road ahead. “Don’t make anything happen, but if it does, just call.” 

Yugyeom fidgeted until the car seemed too narrow and the falling daylight seemed near blinding. He shook his leg and sighed, picking at his nails. Jaebum’s hand fell onto his knee and his leg froze, which Yugyeom supposed was the point. “What if it’s not an emergency? Like, if we just wanna hang out or whatever?” 

Jaebum fell into a neutral, yet slightly surprised expression while finally looking at Yugyeom. “Don’t you guys have normal people friends?” 

Yugyeom shrugged. “Not really? We talk to other people, but it never clicks the same.” He pulled at the loose seatbelt strap, just to have something to play with to redirect his nerves. “Plus, technically, you’re closer to campus than Youngjae hyung.” The stagnant air settled between them and Yugyeom was pretty sure that was his mother looking out the kitchen window, waiting to see if it was her son in the car. “Despite whatever bad you’ve been through, you guys were still fun to be around. And Bambam could probably use the field for his drone filming practice.” 

It was selfish but he desperately hoped the coven’s life would seem different without the other three people, because Yugyeom wouldn’t feel whole without visiting them after school sometimes. And it wasn’t just because they were witches; even if they lost their magic tomorrow, Yugyeom would still want to see them and play games with them, or sit in their open living room. It was a cozy kind of comfortable Yugyeom hadn’t felt even in his own home. 

It was a new environment to escape to when they needed a break. 

Jaebum pondered the idea longer than Yugyeom could stand, and eventually he gave a hushed response. “If it’s not an emergency, record a video saying ‘Mary Mary’ three times. Show the video to the first pigeon you find and tell it to find Jackson--” 

Yugyeom pushed at Jaebum’s shoulder and smiled. “Hyung, come  _ on _ ,” he whined. 

Jaebum pulled at the top bulk of his silver hair and flashed a shy grin. “Just text us, dork. It’s set up so we all receive the texts, but emergencies only come through calls.” He mussed Yugyeom’s hair playfully. “Someone will text back.” 

Yugyeom tried to fix his hair, but it was a lost cause without a proper mirror. “Thanks, hyung,” and before they started up the next conversation, Yugyeom opened the door and didn’t look back until he was inside. 

 

*

 

Yugyeom didn’t text much. He only asked the history of specific places and if anything had happened there--he was trying to find a historic spot like the old motel to do a study on, but he didn’t want to run into anything evil that may have already been there, or that stuck around in the older buildings. A couple of them Jackson said were safe enough, but to carry the protection and healing geode as a precaution; it might not keep the darker energy from trying to wiggle its way into his aura, but once he was out of the area, the geode would do a decent job of banishing that energy to a world even the coven couldn’t reach. 

The friendliness Yugyeom had earned through text, however, ended once Bambam learned he could text the coven, too. He sent them meme upon meme and spammed them with gaming app requests, wanting more friends to play against or with. Youngjae apparently just sent them pictures of his dog Coco and asked for updates on Nora; he was allergic to cats, and especially didn’t want to get close to a firecat, but he still cared about them, which Yugyeom thought would make up for the horrendous attacks from Bambam. 

But when he woke up for school a few mornings after that, there was a text from a number not in his contacts. It said: 

_ Next time you even  _ think  _ about stepping onto my yard, I will personally curse you _ . 

Yugyeom was already planning his own eulogy, and prayed Jaebum would be forgiving if he was reminded Yugyeom was just a pitiful, mortal human. 

 

~*~

 

Wildly, Yugyeom slept through all ten of his alarms, and five missed phone calls. The first two were from Youngjae, one asking if he and Bambam were coming to school, which turned into tracking his panic over something following him; the second voice message said false alarm, that it had just been a nest of birds and the wind rustling the leaves and he was fine and hoped they felt better soon. He probably assumed they were home with a flu.

The other three calls were from Bambam, and the voicemails didn’t get any better. He tried to contact Yugyeom because he woke up at an odd hour and couldn’t fall back asleep. His next call had white static behind it, and he was worried as to why he was leaving the dorm when the sun hadn’t rose, yet. And the last one, from four hours ago, was full of squawks and screeches, of him crying into the phone and wondering where the hell he was and what the circle of dried rose petals was for. 

Four hours ago. 

Yugyeom scrambled out of bed and barely bothered to change, grabbing his stone from the windowsill, where he left it to charge in the moonlight while he slept. He tried to pull up the current location of Bambam’s phone, but the asshole had that setting off. Instead of waiting for the bus, he hopped on his rickety bicycle and hoped it would hold out. 

He was out of breath and dizzy and sweating when he pedaled into campus, and he kept going until he got to the media building, haphazardly ditching his bike outside the stairs and running up three flights of stairs inside the building to reach room 314. It was the main study center for the media students, and he glanced around without seeing the face he was searching for. 

At least he saw Wonsik. “Where’s Hakyeon hyungnim?”

Wonsik slid a water bottle over to Yugyeom’s hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Breathe kid, you okay?” Yugyeom shook his head because it was an emergency; he accepted the water bottle and put the cool plastic against his neck and cheeks. “He’s with Hyukie doing some post-production thing down the hall. That big double-door room.” 

Yugyeom touched Wonsik’s shoulder. He attempted a thank you, but his voice only came out in heavy breaths so he just nodded and bowed, jogging away and down the hall to the room with the double doors. Thankfully, it seemed like they were wrapping up and Sanghyuk was quitting the video editing programs on the projection screen. 

He headed straight to Hakyeon and held both his shoulders, keeping the nub of the bottle between his fingers so he didn’t lose something so vital. “Hyungnim, please, just once, let me into the security room. I need to see the cameras from early this morning.” 

Hakyeon worried his eyebrows and looked at Yugyeom like he was a hurting, abandoned puppy. “You know I can’t.” 

“Please, something happened to Bambam.” Yugyeom’s heart was pounding and his legs weren’t going to keep him up for long, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. “Please, hyungnim. It’s not something they can deal with.” 

Hakyeon set his hands atop Yugyeom’s and lowered his voice. “Is this that spirit stuff you’ve been reading?” 

“Yes!” Yugyeom screamed. Sanghyuk snapped his gaze to them, but Hakyeon waved him off. “It is, and I can fight it but I need to  _ find  _ him. I have no other direction.” 

Hakyeon sighed and pat Yugyeom’s cheek. “Okay, okay. But just this once.” 

“Thank you,” Yugyeom did the best bow he could manage. “Once he’s okay, I’ll make sure he brings food twice next week.” 

When they got into the campus security room, Hakyeon whispered something about trying to find a lost wallet. He punched in the timeframe into the program and Yugyeom watched the video carefully. He could barely make anything out, but Bambam was clearly stumbling around before dawn, phone pressed to his ear. He headed in the direction of a trail that eventually led to a small river. 

Yugyeom prayed he hadn’t been forced to jump in. 

Hakyeon’s hand circled his wrist. “Hey, sure you can handle this? I can call Taekwoonie--” 

“It’s okay. I know people that’ll help. This was really already too much to ask. Thanks hyungnim. I’ll check back in later.” 

“You better,” he called over his shoulder as Yugyeom hurried away. 

He nearly tripped on the stairs, texting Youngjae the situation instead of watching his steps. Luckily, his bike hadn’t been reclaimed by campus security. He called the coven’s service number and swung back onto his bike. He tapped his foot when they didn’t answer and tried again. He redialed two more times and when they still didn’t pick up, he left an aggravated message, not caring to be polite and kind. 

“Look assholes, I know Bammie fucked up the texting, but he’s going to  _ die _ \--maybe he already is dead!--but you promised to help us in emergencies. I’m on the Blue Trail going towards the river. Once I find him, we’ll get over there one way or another.” Just as a safety measure, he shared his GPS location with both the coven and Youngjae. He slipped his phone into his front pocket and pedaled faster than his heart could take. 

There were too many footsteps and tracks to guess which belonged to Bambam, but when he got to the T of the trail, there was only one set of tracks veering left. It headed through a forested path, and eventually he got to the mini-bridge crossing over the flowing river. In the middle of the bridge was a faded pink petal, darker after getting wet. Yugyeom carefully got off his bike and pulled the handle down until it laid on the ground. He didn’t hear anything around other than the water against small boulders and a croaking frog. 

He kneeled on the bridge and examined the rose petal; he wasn’t a criminal investigator, though. He couldn’t guess how long it had been here or the most likely place it would lead, but he just had to keep walking. His geode was right in the front pocket of his bag and he could easily reach it at any moment. Just as he crossed the bridge, there was the snap of a twig from behind, followed by heavy breathing. 

Yugyeom’s hand went to his bag and he reached for his keys with the other hand in case he needed to physically hurt someone to escape. 

The figure hugged a tree just on the other side of the bridge, and Yugyeom finally saw it was only Youngjae. “Gyeom-ah,” he wheezed. “Are you  _ crazy _ ? Do you even know what we’re going after?” 

“Yeah. Bammie. No one else is gonna find him. The coven isn’t answering.” 

“They didn’t answer me, either.” Youngjae caught his breath a few more seconds and practically hugged the railing as he awkwardly crawled over the bridge like a fawn learning to walk. “How do we find him?” 

Yugyeom held the petal between the fingertips of his index and middle finger. “These. He said there was a circle of them. If it’s magic, there’s bound to be more, or at least markings in the ground where they used to be.” 

“How long ago?” 

“Five or six hours now, maybe.” 

Youngjae bent down and touched the damp earth, smelling the soil and rubbing it between his fingers. “Any clues as to what did this?” 

“Not really,” he pulled Youngjae up by his collar. “But pretending we’re professionals doesn’t help, either. Just...go search over that way and I’ll look over here.” 

He tried to think of what it could be, but every bit of knowledge he doubted because it came from this world, and not the witch library. He didn’t think any of it could be trusted and the only thing he could even think of right now was possibly a rogue water sprite, but it wasn’t often they gathered enough petals to form a human sized circle. It had to be something solid and aware enough to control others, through telepathy or some kind of blood magic. 

His mind reminded him of the witch realm, their king they were searching for; the one that had a hand in Bambam’s last possession. And here it was again, more than likely, making a second strike. After this, he was going to stay with Bambam forever because if there was a third time, they might not get him back, and Yugyeom hated that thought. 

He kicked at the dirt, tried to not pull his hair out and tapped his cheeks so he could focus. Focus and concentrate even if this led to something he  _ didn’t  _ know how to deal with. Even if the coven didn’t show, he’d find Bambam. 

Youngjae screamed and birds flocked away at the rumbling pitch of it. Yugyeom hurried back over to him and around one of the tree trunks was a pile of rose petals, and a tuft of red hair in the branches above. 

He hadn’t climbed a tree since he was six. He fell off and broke his leg and his mom made him swear to never climb one again. But they didn’t have a ladder and Youngjae truthfully wasn’t as agile, and there was still no word on the coven. They were running out of time and he couldn’t even attempt to use the stone from this distance. 

“You can’t make that.” 

Yugyeom looked around, glad there was still a rope barrier running from the edge of the bridge to the first trees in front of the river. They had been flagged in yellow paint to warn night owls of incoming danger, and if they did end up overboard, there was still the rope to hang onto before falling into the water. 

He cut that safety net down. “I can if I Mulan this shit.” 

“Gyeom, I can’t take  _ two  _ unconscious people to that house alone.” Yugyeom twisted the length around his forearms and wrists, ignoring Youngjae’s protesting. “If you get up there, how will you even get him down?” 

He huffed at the tree bark. “Tie the rope around him and hope there’s enough to pulley him down.” 

Despite being vehemently against it, Youngjae helped push Yugyeom up for a better start, supporting with his hands where he could. The trunk was too wide to fully wrap his legs around, but he slowly scuffed higher, the wet bark probably staining his jeans and the rope burned his skin from the friction. He slipped a few times and Youngjae yelped in worry until he reached a height with enough branches to cling to for a short break. He worked around them using the rope and he was finally on a branch near his best friend. 

“Hey Bammie,” he whispered, finding a sturdy place to sit. “You’re gonna be okay. This will probably hurt, but it should hurt less than whatever happened this morning. You trust me, right?” He untwisted the rope from his own limbs and did what he could with the awkward angle to tie it around Bambam’s waist and harnessed it onto one of his legs so it wouldn’t just roll under his armpits and drop his unconscious friend to the ground altogether. “Hyung!” He called and Youngjae grunted back. “Ready to catch! Not sure how slow I’ll be able to drop him. Sorry in advance!” 

Youngjae gave the confirmation. Yugyeom rested his head against the tree to breathe in confidence. He stayed on his own branch and hoped he wouldn’t be dragged down. He carefully pushed Bambam off his branch, thinking it would be more friction against the rope and it’d be easier to control the timing. 

It wasn’t really, not even when Yugyeom wrapped his leg around his length of rope to slow it. It didn’t drop him in an instant, but it was nearly too fast and he heard the sure sound of Youngjae hitting the ground after catching him. He did manage to untie the rope and Yugyeom pulled it back up and slid down the same way he climbed up. 

Everything burned and ached and Youngjae was still pinned to the wet dirt. Yugyeom carefully maneuvered Bambam off Youngjae and checked that he was still breathing. He fumbled in his bag and pulled out the healing geode, and set it on Bambam’s faintly rising chest. He left one hand on it, and dug the other one right into the dirt. He had to connect to the life of this earth. He had to make it sense this was not the natural state Bambam lived in. It had to right the wrong. 

But his hand trembled and the birds complained too loudly, the frog croaking was  _ irritating  _ and he was about to explode. It was full of life but he couldn’t get to the roaring energy of it all and Bambam’s heart rate was deteriorating. 

He couldn’t save Bambam like this. 

“Call an Uber or something; this thing is bullshit.” 

“Gyeom, it’s just your panic--” 

“Yeah, and I can’t  _ not  _ panic, so find us a ride,” he snapped, glaring at Youngjae.  He put both hands on the geode and heard Youngjae’s fingers tap away on the phone screen. There was one just five minutes away. Yugyeom picked Bambam up and threw him over his shoulder. “Bet this is worse than your piggyback ride, huh?” 

Youngjae tacked Yugyeom’s bag and his bike to his item responsibilities and they worked their way past the trail and onto the main road. He loaded the bike to the trunk rack, awkwardly lied his way through Bambam experiencing a bad, morning breakup and hit the alcohol too early and he passed out while they tried to convince him to go home, and this was his ride home. 

The driver definitely looked like he didn’t get paid enough, but Yugyeom put a few loose bills from his bag into the tip jar and the driver didn’t say another word. They had him drop them at the bus stop in front of the treeline and fast walked through the yard, Yugyeom holding the geode to Bambam’s back. It wasn’t doing anything, but Yugyeom couldn’t stop. Maybe there was a part of Bambam that could sense his presence like this, and he’d have faith that they were doing everything to save him. 

Youngjae left the bike in the yard and tried to stop Yugyeom before he practically kicked the door open. It left a nice, muddy footprint; an exact replica of his shoe, and he tracked prints inside, too focused on the task to toe off his shoes. And he saw Nora scatter down the left hall, her tail leaving an ember trail. If Nora was out, Jaebum was here. He didn’t care about honorifics now that they let him down. 

“Jaebum,” he yelled, following Nora’s trail. 

“What if they’re  _ busy _ ,” Youngjae whispered. 

“Yah, Jaebum-ah! Fucking emergency here!” 

Nora peeked out from one of the rooms and growled, a few flames flickering to blue. Jaebum rushed out of the room, sharp jaw ready to cut Yugyeom’s throat. He wasn’t intimidated and just stayed still, swallowing down his nerves. 

“Emergency or not, you respect me.” 

“You  _ ignored  _ us. We both called. You said calling was for emergencies. Now tell me where to put Bambam so you can fix him.” 

Yugyeom didn’t pay attention to what room Jaebum led him into, but he set Bambam on a soft rug further inside the room, and placed the geode on his chest. Jaebum set a candle stick at his head and feet, and called Nora in. She touched the wicks with her nose and lit them up. “What did he encounter?” 

“We don’t know. He just left voice messages and was forced into a circle of dried rose petals.” Yugyeom’s anger fell to bitterness. Bambam’s life was more important than his feud with the coven’s leader. 

“We found him like that, up in a tree,” Youngjae added. 

Nora tried to sniff Bambam, but Jaebum toed her away, saying she couldn’t touch him yet. He reached his hands out, palms down and closed his eyes. Yugyeom closed his eyes too, but all he saw was the trail and the river and Bambam hanging over the branch, nearly dead and the rose petals left behind. Youngjae’s screeching echoed in his memory, followed by the flap of birds escaping danger instead of feeding off the wilting life. 

“His dorm is that close to the river?” Jaebum asked. 

Yugyeom’s eyes opened wide. Jaebum was staring right at him, worry clear as day. “Close enough for whatever controlled him. How did you…?” 

“You transferred that information to the geode, so I saw it.” Jaebum waved his hands and the candle flames dwindled. “This was probably Fae work. Sometimes they take over human bodies so their royalty can ascend higher and sneak more Fae into your society. But their magic is stronger during the summer solstice. Not sure why they’d do it now.” 

Yugyeom had a feeling it was the same power behind the last incident--that reincarnated soul. Jaebum probably assumed it, too. 

Youngjae clung to Yugyeom’s arm. “Is he going to be okay?” 

“Unfortunately,” Jaebum sighed heavily and put the candles out completely, “yes. He’ll live. He’d be dead if they succeeded. We just have to get him into a warm rose bath and give him one of Jackson’s mind correctors.” 

Yugyeom lifted Bambam from the floor and carried him bridal-style into the bathroom Jaebum pointed to. Youngjae got the bath going, checking the temperature with Jaebum. Jackson’s voice boomed through the house and Jaebum rushed out to meet him, returning with a bag of fresh rose petals. He mouthed a spell, tossing petals into the water with each pause until the clear bag was empty. “Keep him in for about an hour; if the water cools, run some hot water back into it.” 

Jaebum closed the door to give them privacy. Yugyeom left the geode on the counter so he and Youngjae could undress Bambam. They laid him carefully into the tub, set the timer, and waited. 

 

*

 

Jackson went off to make the mind corrector for Bambam, so it was just Jaebum and Mark in the big bedroom, Nora watching them carefully from the doorway. “You’re sure there was nothing?” Jaebum paced the length of the room while Mark crossed his legs on the corner of the bed.

“Yes, Jaebum,” Mark rolled his eyes. “The volume was on, I checked missed calls and deleted or blocked numbers. Nothing came up.” 

“But Youngjae said they each tried half a dozen times. I swear Yugyeom was going to punch me.” 

“You were going to curse Bambam, anyway,” Mark shrugged casually. 

“Cursing and leaving for dead are  _ different  _ things. Nothing else gets to kill these kids except us.” 

Mark quirked an eyebrow. “Affectionate already? Who knew my kitten had grown so soft?.” 

Jaebum groaned and threw himself onto the other side of the bed, his cheek pressing into the blanket. “No, they just listened to me, hyung. Bambam was  _ forced  _ to walk into trouble.” He rolled around until he reached Mark and put his head in his lap. “The Fae don’t work outside of their given seasons. Royal ascension is in  _ Summer _ . We’re over halfway through Autumn! It doesn’t make sense.” 

“You know why.” Mark pet Jaebum’s hair and peeled a lollipop wrapper off with his teeth. 

“He’s never put them against us before.” 

Mark replied with the lollipop in his mouth. “And he’s never defeated us. When he knows he won’t win, he gives up and disappears. Maybe this time he’s using wildcards to mess us up.” 

“You think he could even intercept phone calls?” 

The sucker clicked against his teeth. “Possible, if he’s learned to manipulate radio waves and shit. Who knows what he mastered this time.” Mark lightly scratched Jaebum’s scalp with his fingernails and Jaebum hummed into it. “Not sure we can predict anything this time.” 

He was afraid Mark was right, because there had yet to be a time when Mark wasn’t right.

 

* 

 

After his short time with Mark, he checked on Jackson and the kids. Bambam had surprisingly woken up in the bath, mostly dazed and hungry. After Jackson made him take the herbal shot, he remembered everything that happened, down to Yugyeom talking nonsense to him to keep his consciousness tethered, and how the youngest disrespected Jaebum in anger. 

Jaebum’s jaw popped, but he swore not to bring it up for now. They’d have to work through that argument separately.  

Bambam never saw what actually brought him into the circle, but he just heard a persuading melody in his ear and ended up falling asleep during his last voicemail to Yugyeom. He was terrified and didn’t understand what was happening, worried about what had stolen his free will, but the sleep overtook him and he wasn’t able to fight it. It was like his brain was actually melting, and he heard twinkling and hissing until the melting stopped. 

He didn’t really know what else happened in-between those memories.

Jaebum set Bambam up with a robe and made two mugs of rose tea for extra cleansing. He sat on the couch and drank them both without complaint, staring off into space even as Nora’s flames flickered worriedly when she hunkered beside him. It was one thing to simply hear about manipulation, or even witness it, but twice Bambam was the victim of it. 

No amount of magic or herbal healing could fix the emotional damage of that. 

When Jinyoung came home, Jaebum caught him up on everything. 

“This was him too, wasn’t it?” Jinyoung tiredly sighed, hanging his trench coat in the closet. 

“Yeah, most likely.”   

Jinyoung tried to rouse Bambam back into any emotion, but the one smile he got was empty. Jaebum even grimaced at it when he observed from the kitchen. Eventually, they just agreed to let him have his time, and Jackson and Mark filled the loveseat; Yugyeom sidled in on the other side of Bambam, where Nora wasn’t. 

Youngjae tried to get close, but Nora growled low in her throat, and the boy sneezed, moving to a dining room chair while slightly pouting. Jaebum found himself accidentally staring, adoring the way Youngjae’s dark bangs curved under his eyes, touching the mole under his right eye. He radiated an optimism Jaebum didn’t have to force himself to believe in; it simply  _ existed _ . Bambam was the one hurting, but he suddenly wanted to protect Youngjae, too. 

No one asked him how they ended up cuddled on the couch the last time, and he didn’t ask himself, either. Most of the time, others found his appearance intimidating and cold, too sharp to find the softness he had to keep buried so he wouldn’t ever be let down. The kids in general brought that back out quicker than he expected, but there was a specific light in Youngjae he was drawn to. He liked racing him in Mario Kart and letting his smile take over the entire living room. He wanted his laugh to echo off their walls like Jinyoung’s did. 

He blinked again and Youngjae was staring at him, too. 

Jaebum’s face heated and he stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall to hide in the library. 

 

*

 

Yugyeom helped Jackson cook dinner--just some stir fry over rice with dumplings. It was absolutely delicious and seemed to perk Bambam’s mood a bit. They did some homework and played some games for more distraction. Yugyeom let his mom know he was  _ staying at Youngjae’s _ , and had Bambam text his dorm advisor, and Hakyeon so the film club leader knew they were both safe. 

Mark won the four-stage round of Mario Kart by half a second, but their crowd erupted with booing and cheering, and Mark ran across the floor and cartwheeled and bounced on his feet and flipped in the air in a brilliantly dangerous display of victory. Jackson was last place, so he cheered Mark on and made him do another trick, which he flipped again and did a handstand with only one hand, cartwheeling his way out of it. Youngjae was in awe and Bambam clapped, leaning into Yugyeom. 

After another couple games, their cheering slowed and Bambam yawned, giving up altogether. Yugyeom left the couch to tidy the dishes and the kitchen; he left to check on Youngjae who disappeared at one point, and the two head witches, which he was informed had entered the left hall and hadn’t come back since getting dinner. 

Yugyeom did some more work in the quiet comfort of the big bedroom, and set the geode on the windowsill again to clear it of whatever energy it absorbed. When he finished his textbook reading, he went back into the living room. The night was finally quiet--settled and calm. At some point, Jackson and Mark had moved to the couch. Bambam was asleep on Jackson, who was sleeping on Mark, and Mark’s head was propped in his hand, elbow slipping off the arm of the couch. 

Youngjae appeared and whispered something about having a test to study for and that he forgot his book at home, but would be safe going home on his own. Yugyeom said he would find them a clean, non-firecat room to sleep in, but Youngjae shook his head and said he’d be better off leaving right now and sleeping the intensity of the day away in his own familiar space. Which, Yugyeom understood. 

He didn’t leave the living room until Youngjae texted him about twenty minutes later with picture proof that he was warm and inside his apartment. And then he made his way to the library. It still only opened when he hit his forehead against the wall, but at least he still had access. 

When he got down there, he found Jinyoung and Jaebum hunched over various open books, and he braved sitting between them on the bench. He hugged his knees to his chest, the arches of his feet digging into the edge of the bench. “Did he try to hurt Bammie again?” 

Jinyoung glanced away from his book and settled his hand on the back of Yugyeom’s neck. “It’ll be okay. We’re figuring it out.” 

Yugyeom rested his other cheek on his knee to look at Jaebum, but he said nothing, so Yugyeom faced forward. He tugged at the cuff of his pants, finding a thread to pull and twist and tie. “So what is this dark witch to you guys? Is he  _ your _ king, or just the first soul of his kind?” 

Jaebum rubbed his temple, and Yugyeom knew he asked something complex. “Both,” he answered simply. 

“So when you said before that he’s ‘our king’,” he used air quotations, “you really meant that? You weren’t just guides for him, were you?” 

Jinyoung closed his book loudly and a cloud of dust polluted the air. “This isn’t a conversation we need to have right now, Yugyeom. Just go to sleep like everyone else.” 

“Can’t,” he fidgeted more with the unravelling the thread. “You know I’ll have nightmares. I want to sleep with you guys.” 

“No,” Jaebum cut. “You disrespected me.” 

“None of you answered our calls! My anger and fear was very valid.” 

“We think he purposely intercepted your calls. Or it was one hell of a service fluke,” Jinyoung filled in the missing detail. “It wasn’t on us. We wouldn’t purposely ignore you at this point, but,” he paused, “you were scared and doubtful. We just want you to understand we swore to protect you, and find the source of the problem. If it happens again, it’s okay to be scared, but you have to keep the trust and boundaries we’ve agreed on. We’re here for you, if you fully trust us.” 

It felt like Jinyoung had told Jaebum not to say a word so they could handle it peacefully. Yugyeom really understood now they wouldn’t leave them dead and dry. In the heat of the moment, he just needed to get the help and attention of someone he thought had betrayed them. Or had been too busy to help a couple of silly kids, even after as much bonding as they had done. 

His emotions were right; his attitude was wrong. 

“I’m really sorry, hyung,” Yugyeom addressed to Jaebum. “It’s easier to doubt than keep faith or whatever.” He let his chin dig between his knees. “Curse me if you want.” 

“The curse will come when you’re not expecting it,” Jaebum said. 

Jinyoung’s soft breathing and Jaebum’s fingers running along the old pages filled the silence. The curiosity of their world still itched under Yugyeom’s skin. “So, what happened to your king?” 

Jaebum sat up and his back cracked from being bent over too long. He swayed a little, side to side in the small space to stretch out some of the kinks. “He  _ was  _ our king. But like all beings in position of power, he flew too high and burned up, just like Icarus.” His hand curled up and relaxed, and he did it again. “Easy to lose yourself if you never even knew who that was to begin with,” he released an empty chuckle. 

Jinyoung worried his brow as he watched Jaebum, and Yugyeom could tell they were both trying not to unravel. He had tugged on them just like he had tugged on the thread of his own pants, and now he had a whole, unwoven line to rip off. 

“Before we left per banishment, they were all calling him the Was-King; the Lost-Everything king. Lost those he was supposed to trust, lost his subjects, and his realm.” 

It was hard to watch them both, but when Jaebum’s eyes narrowed, growing darker, he reached a hand toward him, but thought better of touching him, and carefully folded his hand over his knee. 

“Jaebum hyung was once his First Command,” Jinyoung led the explanation. “He was meant to be not only his balance, but a guide to the righteous path; he was supposed to complete his honor and stability. But the king unadvisedly took his own path. For his own manipulated sense of family honor and glory. And then hyung was simply the king’s ward, where he was protected but his word no longer had bearing on higher decisions.” 

Jaebum curled up, doing his best not to fall off the bench. “No one told him I could be his family, too.” 

“Were you guys close? Like brothers?” Yugyeom asked quietly. 

“It’s more complicated than that in the witch realm, especially with them, but yeah, in basic terms,” Jinyoung said. “You know he’s the balance of the king’s power, and one without the other is unstable.”   

“You seem stable, though, hyung.” 

Jaebum unfolded and slumped backwards on the bench until his head tilted towards the ceiling. “I wasn’t. Even after we were all together in the realm during the downfall. Right after the king fell, I was  _ worse  _ than what he had become. I was on a warpath, ready to bleed the whole realm dry.” He ruffled Yugyeom’s hair. “And now I’m cursed to chase his reincarnations forever.” 

“And you never know what his reincarnations look like,” Yugyeom voiced his thought aloud. It was logical, and something obvious, but he wanted to state it. 

“Could be an otter for all we know,” Jinyoung yawned. He stood and raised his arms up. “I’ve been staring without reading too long. Think it’s bedtime.” 

It probably wasn’t, but it wasn’t exactly safe to continue their conversation. Not with how Yugyeom was trying to avoid anything that would manifest in his nightmares. “Since I apologized, can I sleep in your room now?” 

“What’re you, five?” Jinyoung teased. “Sleep in the living room with your troublemaker.” 

Jaebum sighed and rolled his head to relax his neck. “He won’t shut up unless we let him, will he?” 

Yugyeom was slightly offended. He wasn’t  _ desperate _ . 

Jinyoung shook his head in agreement. 

“Let him, then. I’ll be a minute anyway. It’s okay.” 

Jinyoung walked behind the bench and put his hand softly on Jaebum’s cheek. Yugyeom looked away like it was an intimate, private thing just for the two of them. “Going to be okay?” 

“Yeah. Just gotta...you know.” 

“I know.” Yugyeom observed them from the corner of his eye and saw Jinyoung run his hand through Jaebum’s hair, smiling fondly at the way he relaxed a bit more and breathed easier, leaning into the touch slightly. “Night, hyung.” His fingers slipped out of his hair and he caught up to Yugyeom, flicking his temple. “Let’s go shithead.” 

They were totally bitter about him disrespecting Jaebum. 

“Time to fight your night terrors,” Jinyoung encouraged him to leave. 

Yugyeom glared at Jinyoung but followed him anyway, glancing over his shoulder. “G’night, hyung. Sorry for asking so much. I didn’t know…” 

“Curiosity doesn’t just kill the curious, you know.” Jaebum waved. 

“Yeah, I’m realizing that,” Yugyeom nodded to himself. 

Jinyoung huffed and pulled at Yugyeom’s ear because he wasn’t walking fast enough. “Let’s  _ go _ . I’m tired.” 

Yugyeom winced and whined, attempting one last goodnight at Jaebum. Once they had weaved their way into the bedroom, the one on the end where they first talked, Yugyeom asked if Jaebum was really going to be okay after having to dredge up such horrific memories. 

“Yeah, he will. He goes to Mark hyung when he feels vulnerable. Might get his head ripped off for waking him suddenly, but he’s good at sewing Jaebum hyung back together.” They changed into pajamas and Jinyoung lifted the covers. “You three were never meant to intrude on our task, but you’re in it now and we can’t control that. We can’t keep the important details from you forever.” 

Yugyeom looked out the smaller window, watching a patch of wheatgrass bend to the wind. “Earlier, I told them I would ask about your story, but Youngjae hyung hit me and Bammie started writing my eulogy. Which was terrible. Never let him write my eulogy when I die.” 

Jinyoung covered his mouth to quiet his laughter. “Well, if they do want to know, go ahead and tell them. They’re now victims of our tale, as well.” The polyester fabric of the blanket scritched when Jinyoung made more space for Yugyeom to lay when he was ready. “Besides, the king didn’t fall on his own. I know he was led astray by our own kind.” 

“Without Jaebum hyung noticing?” 

Jinyoung shook his head. “There were sacred places reserved only for royalty. Hyung, in that time, was labeled a  _ mutt  _ and only climbed the ranks because of the balance in his soul. He wasn’t meant to walk the same sacred grounds. There were others who weren’t meant to, either, but they did. Jaebum hyung doesn’t like that version of the truth.” 

Yugyeom closed the curtain. “We’ll find him, no matter the form he has. He tried to kill my best friend. The responsibility for solving this doesn’t just fall on Jaebum hyung.” 

“He thinks it does, sometimes. He’s got us, and now three other kids. That’s six people to share his burden with.” 

Yugyeom finally laid down, facing Jinyoung. “This isn’t just about the witch realm anymore, is it?” 

“It never was,” Jinyoung whispered, “but this time he could end  _ everything _ .” 

Yugyeom hunkered under the flannel sheets and blanket. “This is why I have nightmares.” 

Jinyoung softened and pet Yugyeom’s hair and eventually held his hand until he slept. 

 

*

 

Jinyoung fell halfway asleep. The bed dipped behind him and a strong arm secured itself around his waist. He melted back into Jaebum’s familiar warmth and surrendered fully to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just pretend the security cams make sense okay it was the only way 
> 
> also i Swear I'm a Bambam stan 
> 
> as always you can clickity [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) or [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor) to send dms or anon things


	6. Scene VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peep that rating change tho

Jinyoung was not at all surprised when Bambam approached him, asking if he could stay longer than just a night here and there. Being walked right out of his dorm without anyone to catch him rightfully skewed his comfort zone. And clearly, the campus wasn’t safe anymore. He hadn’t been in the mood to even text them hourly memes, and if Jinyoung was honest, he kind of missed them. It was something so mundane and outside of their businesses, and it made Jinyoung feel a bit _normal_ at times.

Everything extended in other ways, because where he accepted Bambam into their home indefinitely, he accepted Yugyeom and Youngjae, as well. Jinyoung worried if Coco would settle into their house okay, but Youngjae said his apartment manager was sort of like his adopted grandmother and she was more than willing to care for Coco, but he’d go visit often. He didn’t want Coco to start hating him, but how she’d react to Nora would be unpredictable and probably awkward and unfriendly. And like that, the younger group decided to permanently move in.

The school did not have a problem at all when Bambam withdrew from campus living. Their quarter was nearly over anyway, and it would be an open bed for the next student in line. Jinyoung made sure he still told his family where he would be living, and Bambam introduced Jinyoung and Jackson to his family over FaceTime. They still lived in Thailand, but it didn’t mean they worried any less. His parents wanted to know he was being taken care of. Jackson even responded to some of their general questions in Thai; Bambam almost tripped while standing still, and his mother gasped and fired off more questions about Jackson than she had been asking about her own son’s situation.

Jinyoung sat back and watched them flail and crumble and scream excitedly over their conversations. He thought Jackson said something about Bambam staying free of charge, but all he really understood for certain was the tail end, when she wished them all to be safe and healthy, and asked for an address to send a small thank you gift to. Jinyoung provided their box at the post office.

They had tried using their official house address a few times when mail services improved, but the employees kept getting lost or saw that the house sat in the middle of a fog and refused to walk and drive where they couldn’t see an obvious path up to the porch. They often found random packages just tossed haphazardly into the yard, like the postal worker had thrown it and hoped that was good enough, afraid to get any closer in case they were a family of soul-sucking vampires or something. So, they eventually gave up and opted for a postal box.

What the witches weren’t prepared for, however, was Yugyeom’s mother. Jaebum was the unfortunate soul to take their SUV and stuff it full of what the kids needed to take for a proper move-in, which meant he dealt with a bombardment of questions from Yugyeom’s mother, and she refused to make them do the move alone. Jaebum texted Jinyoung saying that she insisted her son had more than what could fit in the space left in their SUV, and would not rest until Yugyeom put a few things in her car, so she could personally drive over and meet the nice group of _young boys_ he was moving in with.

(Jaebum said she sounded bitter because Yugyeom had not told her anything about them previously, so the entire thing was a baseball-sized betrayal lodged in her brain.)

And when they started tumbling in through the door, Yugyeom mouthed for Jinyoung to just sacrifice him already, right here and right now.

 

*

 

Yugyeom watched the coven’s SUV disappear up the dirt driveway. His mom kept the engine running, but left her foot on the brake, fingers white-knuckling the wheel. “Are you sure? Do you even know them that well? Because this house looks like a murder house where they’ll offer me a welcome-to-the-neighborhood pie and poison me, and then use you for evil deeds.”

And his mother preached that _he_ was the one watching too many horror films. “Yes, they’re safe people. Whenever I said I was studying at Youngjae’s, this is where I was. Jinyoung hyung used to work in the library,” he swallowed through his half-truth, “and we kept in contact. He had a cool collection of old books and I haven’t left him alone since.”

His mother sighed, loosening her grip on the steering wheel. “You’re supposed to be able to tell me anything. You know you can, right?”

Yugyeom wished she’d understand, but there was no way she could without the facts. Without knowing Bambam nearly died twice and these people saved him, without knowing they were in something deeper than humanity itself; she’d have to sit and hear the terror of a legendary battle older than the universes combined, a fight to keep the natural order intact. And that could never happen.

Yugyeom nodded to put her at ease. “I know, mom. I was just afraid you’d think I was in some frat house again or something.”

His mother shuddered. Neither of them liked to remember his first college days, thinking a fraternity was definitely for him when it certainly was not even close to what he wanted. He really tried to fit in because it was supposed to be part of a _real college experience_ , but he was better off defining that phrase on his own. He was content to build his own connections with the campus, and so far he was doing okay.

“I worry more now that I know you’ve been hiding things from me.”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing else. I’m not doing anything stupid. _They_ don’t do anything stupid. We just play well together. It’ll be nice.”

She stared at him for a moment before finally releasing the brake and rolling the car slowly up the driveway. She parked one car space away from the SUV and her seatbelt clanked against the window. “You do know I’m still questioning them.”

“I already told you what they do! What else do you need to know?” He kept all of the magic out of it, though, and rattled off their personal hobbies instead. Apparently, it wasn’t enough. She didn’t respond with anything and Yugyeom climbed out of the car when she did. He grabbed his backpack and duffle bag from the trunk, slinging them over his shoulder so he could carry another box inside. His mother opened the door.

Jinyoung was standing near the kitchen. Yugyeom mouthed for Jinyoung to sacrifice him and run, but he just plastered on the fakest, most polite smile Yugyeom had ever had the displeasure of seeing. He threw up in his mouth a little and walked around their beginning small talk to drop his things into one of the bedrooms for now.

The sooner his belongings came in the house, the sooner he could save the coven from this interrogation.

 

*

 

The first thing Mrs. Kim gave Jinyoung were a few bags of homemade meals, both as a thank you and a guarantee that she’d have to see her son again one way or another. She was insistent on having him bring the containers back when they were empty. She accepted Jinyoung’s invitation into the kitchen. Jaebum gave him a thumbs up as he fast-walked--backwards--out the door to continue moving the kids in. Jinyoung almost gestured slitting Jaebum’s throat later, and then remembered his company and forced his grin to stay in place.

She was asking to see tax records and proof of income; promised she knew a police officer who would search their criminal history. The joke was on her because they happened to know the same officer and he kept their record clean. It wasn’t like he knew they were witches, but sometimes they just ended up catching the morally wrong humans that needed to spend a night, or a lifetime, in a cell. Jinyoung did not tell her this.

He listened diligently to her concerns and questions, answering what he could and bullshitting when he didn’t have a non-horrific truth to give. Honestly, she was starting to believe Yugyeom would be safer here, with four other _young boys_ to keep him on track and not let him slack on his schoolwork. They were doing great already, and maybe Mrs. Kim even started to _like_ Jinyoung.

And then Jackson ran through the door with a literal screaming plant and continued on until he and the sound vanished at the end of the hall.

“Was that a _flower_?” She whipped her head around to watch Jackson’s invisible trail.

Jinyoung just awkwardly laughed and tapped the island countertop. “Yes, that’s Jackson. He really cares about his plants being in the right environment. Screeching is the only way he can release his worry. Happens all the time,” he waved off. “Tea?” His voice cracked. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil.

Mrs. Kim curiously eyed the hustle and bustle of moving. Most of the last bulk had obviously belonged to Bambam because Jaebum made a fuss about wondering how the hell he managed to fit all of it in a shared dorm room, and kicked his butt so he’d work harder. At least it got Bambam to smile a little. Bambam had purposely knocked his shoulder into Jaebum’s, and Jaebum dropped his box and told the poor kid to run for the hills, and they disappeared out the door.

Jinyoung set two mugs on the counter and poured the water over Jackson’s organic green tea. The quiet only lasted a split second because Nora then stood at the main entrance to the kitchen, her orange, flaming head leaning right. She licked her lips when Jinyoung sipped his tea, and Mark yelled when he slid down the hallway into Nora’s general vicinity. Jinyoung immediately rounded the island and stood in front of Nora.

“Oh, is that a cat? Yugyeomie didn’t say you have a pet.”

Jinyoung coughed and Mark carefully shooed her into a bedroom. He cleared his throat. “Well, yes, she’s um, an orange tabby! She was hiding under the porch one day and Jaebum hyung likes cute things so he brought her in. She _hates_ bath time.” His chuckle was far too forced, but Yugyeom’s mother nodded and smiled.

Yugyeom snatched his hand from behind. “You let her see _Nora_?” He said through his teeth.

He wasn’t going to kill Mrs. Kim’s son while she was sitting in their kitchen, drinking tea, and judging their actions. “Yes, she’s a pretty _tabby_ cat. Wasn’t she Mrs. Kim?” And then Yugyeom released an understanding breath and let go of Jinyoung.

“Sorry, hyung,” he whispered.

“She was quite the fluff ball. Is poor Youngjae going to be okay? His allergies and all.”

“Jaebum hyung said he has an allergy free space for me,” Youngjae squeezed in and poked his head around the half wall. “We’ll be fine, Momma Kim. They’re honestly good people,” he vouched.

“Hyung’s her favorite,” Yugyeom quietly said against Jinyoung’s ear.

“I heard that!” His mom said.

Jinyoung heard the car doors thud, and then the front door shut. “Got the last brat. Everything is in.” Jaebum pushed his sweaty silver bangs off his forehead with one hand because his other arm was busy keeping Bambam over his shoulder. The younger kicked and flailed but Jaebum did not care. He disappeared down the hall and returned a minute later empty handed. He trailed into the kitchen, stealing a drink from Jinyoung’s abandoned mug of tea.

“Oh, yes, I forgot.” Jinyoung watched Jaebum sift through one of the messier supply cupboards until he found a post-it note and pen. He scribbled on the blue paper and handed it politely to Yugyeom’s mother. “My _personal_ phone number.”

“Hyung, n--” Jaebum shushed him before his argument even began.

Mrs. Kim seemed at ease after that, slipping the number into the front snap pocket of her white purse. She set her tea down with finality, sighing in relief. “Thank you, Jaebum.” They nodded and softly bowed to each other, and Mrs. Kim stepped closer to Jinyoung. “The tea was delicious, dear.”

“Thank you, it was nice to meet you.” His voice, thankfully, was steady.

She pat Yugyeom’s arm. “But you, one more lie and I’ll have them make that poison pie for you.”

“We are happy to fulfill that request anytime,” Jaebum oh-so-helpfully quipped.

Mrs. Kim waved to him and grinned, and then set her sights on her son again. “Don’t annoy them too much. And keep the place clean; don’t mess up their beautiful house. I’ll be visiting often.” That was not what any of them wanted to hear, but after saying thank you and telling them to take care of the kids, Mrs. Kim was gone and heading out the driveway.

Yugyeom collapsed to the floor, thunking his head against the wall. Jaebum smirked and lifted the mug like he was saying cheers and went in the direction of the stairs leading to his study. Bambam finally reappeared with new holes in his jeans and patches of red on his hands and arms.

“What _happened_?” Jinyoung worried.

“Hyung spelled me in with Nora until Mrs. Kim left. She wanted pets and I did not want to pet her.” He stared at his heated flesh, turning his arms around to see the extent of her damage. “So she pet herself against me anyway.”

Jinyoung stuck Bambam’s arms under cold water and applied what was left of Jackson’s burn cream. It didn’t take long for the actual burn to wear off, but he guessed the redness would be there until the end of the day tomorrow. It wouldn’t scar, though.

Jaebum was definitely sleeping somewhere special tonight.  

 

*

 

They split into teams so everyone settled in faster, and after debating which of the lesser used rooms would be reclaimed for the kids, they played rock, paper, scissors to divide the groups. Youngjae won first. Jaebum wasn’t expecting to be chosen as his unpacking partner, but he was and the younger’s fingers loosely circled around his wrist. Before anyone else was matched, he pulled Jaebum down the hall and into the room that would be his. They hadn’t had enough conversations to warrant the casualness between them, but the intensity of what they had already been through made Jaebum quietly follow along.

Youngjae hadn’t brought that much with him. He said he’d go back frequently for Coco, and could pick up what he missed, or exchange pieces of his wardrobe from the apartment. There were only a few reasonably sized boxes with clothes, some special things that often helped him sleep better, his favorite books, and the rest of his hygienic necessities. Jaebum barely had to rearrange their own items that lived in the room; Youngjae’s stack of books fit just fine on the small table in the corner between the closet and window; the dresser had already been emptied, and his coats hung right in front of theirs. All of his hygiene products ended up on top of the dresser, and his sleeping comforts were tossed on the bed.

The rustling of it all didn’t leave room for silence, and Jaebum commented every now and then, especially when he took the time to read the book covers before setting them on the desk. There was one about a struggling middle-aged woman who refused to lose her faith and passion for life, and Youngjae told him he could borrow it.

Even after the boxes were empty, they sat on the bed in relaxing conversation, which was mostly Youngjae asking about Hollywood witch tropes and demanding to know which ones were real and false. The one he seemed most disappointed about was that they didn’t wear pointy hats or hooded capes. And not even Jaebum could manage an aging spell. The very idea of it went against the natural laws of life and growth cycles, and if performed, would not ever go how the witch wanted.

He recounted one tale of a royal florist who decided to try his spells on himself, but he only ended up stuck in a deteriorating, two hundred and fifty year old body with a venus fly trap rooted in his scalp. It was really pitiful and tragic to witness, and Jaebum felt himself cringe at the memory of it all. Youngjae had broken into a loud, open-mouthed laugh, throwing his head back and seal-clapping until he fully fell over on the bed. The sound of it was contagious enough to make Jaebum break into a grin and lean sideways, partially over Youngjae and he tapped his back in amusement.

Jaebum continued on with a couple other stories, and they laughed into each other until Jaebum forgot they had ever been strangers. The house had shrunk into just this room and the two of them and the rapidly beating drum in Jaebum’s chest. He heard the doorbell and used that as an excuse to sit up and away from Youngjae, and then Jackson’s booming voice announced the arrival of their pizza dinner.

They joined everyone else in the living room, Jaebum keeping ahead at a distance where Youngjae couldn’t take his wrist. Even his face was dully throbbing with a blushing heat and he clenched his jaw at how uncomfortable he felt. Jackson was definitely about to ask him what happened, and then they locked gazes and Jackson shrugged his shoulders and shook his head; he didn’t need to know what happened. Jaebum huffed and lifted his piece onto a plate and stepped onto the loveseat, sitting with his legs crossed to fill both cushions.

He had been alive for far too long, and in this realm long enough to know relationships took time to build. Sure, Youngjae had almost lost his friend twice, and Jaebum and his coven saved him both times, and the younger seemed to genuinely enjoy hearing him speak freely, but they didn’t know the first thing about each other. Jaebum didn’t know Youngjae’s favorite color, favorite food, favorite season, what time he enjoyed being outside the most--mundane things he was supposed to find out before feeding the small fire in his chest.

But he couldn’t look away.

Jaebum just held the crust end of his pizza slice, never eating it because he couldn’t look away from Youngjae smiling through his own bites. Youngjae nudged Jackson and Yugyeom when they teamed up to tease him for how long his sleeves were compared to the length of his arms. Bambam didn’t leave him alone, either, letting everyone know Youngjae once wore a brand new white sweatshirt and he was barely out of his apartment before he stained it because the cuffs covered his hands. Overall, the scene was cute; no one was ever supposed to slip so seamlessly into the coven’s life like this, and Jaebum was relieved they were getting along. But it turned his first judgements on their heads. His brain was firing off signals that warned these were kind and smart and loving humans, and he didn’t need to be so jaded anymore.

It was easier to believe in that thought when he watched the shifting and tugging of his family until the three humans settled into their perfectly tragic tale.

But the only time his heart beat uncharacteristically was when he focused on Youngjae. And especially, when Youngjae took notice. They played tag with their eyes all night, even when they switched to playing a console game. Youngjae would win a round and peek over at Jaebum, and Jaebum would find the ceiling more interesting than ever, counting the amount of dust bunnies they hadn’t cleaned up. Maybe it was how his longer bangs framed his face, the dark color making him seem almost as intimidating as Jaebum upon first impression. Or maybe it was his booming laugh, filling the entire space with a visual wave of melody and coloring the house a liquid gold.

And maybe it was his unique mole. Jaebum knew his own moles hadn’t been matched in placement and intrigue, and people he’s approached always noticed them first. If he received cash for everytime someone joked that his exorcism powers were contained in his twin moles, he’d be able to buy out and end the whole damn exorcism business by bribing demonic monsters and finally live somewhat peacefully; could spend more time on photography. So maybe, whatever happiness and comfort Youngjae radiated came from the mole under his eye. Maybe it changed the rules of the game completely.

It was too early to fall into him, but Jaebum knew it was already too late to save himself from tripping.

 

*

 

He only ate half his slice by the time everyone else was falling half asleep over their empty plates and abandoned controllers, and it was better to forget he ever had an appetite. Jackson helped him clean, mostly taking charge of rousing the others so they’d shuffle around and climb into bed instead of sleeping uncomfortably in the living room and regretting it in the morning. They shut off the electronics and Jackson made sure everyone stayed upright, filing them into the bathroom to wash their faces and brush their teeth.

It was a night where they split into their bedrooms, the youngests wanting to get comfortable in their own spaces within the house in case they needed to retreat to them, and Mark was being oddly possessive with Jackson, even trying to get him to leave everyone in the bathroom so he’d go to bed and cuddle with him. Jaebum truly admired their relationship, not afraid to ask the most, or more, of each other. There was only Bambam and Youngjae to look after now, because Jinyoung volunteered to do his night routine last and could manage himself so Jaebum took pity and stood outside of the bathroom, and Jackson left with an apologetic smile.

Youngjae was done before Bambam, and instead of using the wall to get to his room safely, he curved around the bathroom doorway and squished his body against Jaebum’s. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but his cheek was right against Jaebum’s shoulder. Jaebum wasn’t going to panic. He had cuddled Youngjae before and this was exactly like that. The younger was just grateful to Jaebum, showing his appreciation through physical affection because that’s how he was with his friends.

It was nothing more than gratitude and sleepiness.

Bambam eventually completed his routine, giving a passing, “Ew,” and nearly tripping when he continued walking. Jaebum caught his arm so he didn’t crash through the wall. He made sure Bambam settled into his room without another near-incident, and he just let Youngjae cling to him as they made their way to his bedroom. He stood at the entrance, hands holding both sides of the doorway, and he watched Youngjae move his plushies and pillows to the side to fold open the covers.

“Anything else you need before I, um, go to sleep?”

Youngjae didn’t climb in bed. “No,” he shook his head and walked over to him. “But,” he studied the wood floor, “what if I have a nightmare?”

Jaebum’s knees almost buckled when Youngjae looked up at him from under his eyelashes. “You can wake me up. I’ll help you fall asleep again.” He swallowed nervously.

“You won’t throw a spell at me if I wake you up?”

Jaebum promised he wouldn’t. Both of them were awkward without anything else to say, and just blinked at each other in the softly lit space. During the day, Youngjae emitted a ray of sunshine, but here, in the night with only one-quarter of his face glowing in the dim light, he was Jaebum’s moon. He wanted to put him on his shoulders and lift him towards the night, give him back to the stars and the ocean so gravity could run its course.

But Jaebum convinced himself, just for a moment, that he could be a star, that his light was allowed to shine beside Youngjae’s, outside of the sky.

His fingers slid into the side of Youngjae’s hair, and he ran his thumb lightly over Youngjae’s right mole. His eyes naturally fell closed and he leaned into Jaebum’s touch.

But, he couldn’t do anything more. It was too fast and too shallow to want him for his appearance and surface personality alone. His pasts would curse him if he tried; he shouldn’t have even done this.

Jaebum untangled his hand from Youngjae’s hair and cleared the burning conflict from his throat. “You, um,” he stuttered, pointing a finger to his own eye, “an eyelash.” It was the best he could come up with. He hoped Jinyoung learned about this just so he’d slap some more bullshitting skills into him. “Okay, I’m gonna…” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Hope you don’t have nightmares, but you know where to find me. So, goodnight?” He was already leaving before hearing the proper response, but he saw Youngjae’s shadow extend into the hallway and he heard a sad, quiet, “Night, hyung,” and Jaebum kept moving until he got to his shared room with Jinyoung.

It was still empty, so he childishly slammed the door shut and flopped angrily onto the bed, releasing a short yell into the pillow. He hugged the pillow to his chest and rolled to his side. Staring at the wall did not smother his confusion in the way he’d hope.

The door softly opened and closed, and he knew it was Jinyoung’s weight dipping the bed behind him. He easily swung a leg over Jaebum’s hip and wiggled his foot to rest between his legs. “Gee, haven’t seen you this worked up since your crush on me, hyung.”

“Shut up, Jinyoungie.”

His younger companion giggled, forehead landing on his shoulder. “He is cute, and doesn’t find you terrifying. Can’t really blame you for liking him already.”

“I don’t like him,” Jaebum huffed, holding the pillow tighter.

“Okay, hyung, sure.” He fluttered kisses over Jaebum’s neck and ran his hand down Jaebum’s arm to help him relax. He massaged his hip, and Jaebum settled deeper the more Jinyoung’s hands and lips touched him, turning his confusion into the adoration he always held for the one in his bed.

Jinyoung lightly scratched down his arm again, this time entwining their fingers together and Jaebum slackened his grip on the pillow. Jinyoung moved their held hands over Jaebum’s stomach, pressing into his hip bone and smoothing down what little thigh he could reach, retracing the path until he was pushing down against Jaebum’s clothed dick. Jinyoung told him to let go for a moment, to remember Jinyoung was there for him, and it was okay. He told him to make himself feel good. To not worry right now.

And Jaebum relaxed, his hand folded on top of Jinyoung’s and keeping the right pressure as his hips moved and he rubbed Jinyoung’s hand over his length. It didn’t take long at all for him to unravel, breathing heavy and quietly, moaning Jinyoung’s name in the humid air of their closed bedroom. Jinyoung’s other arm circled to hold his chest and brush over his collar bones and throat, promising he’d undress Jaebum and fuck his thighs after this.

He came just like that, clothed in his shorts with Jinyoung’s hand under his, moaning affections before letting himself go completely. He sunk into the mattress on his back and Jinyoung still teased the fabric over his sensitive, softening cock. Jinyoung kissed his lips, slow and calming until he got his bearings back and carefully pulled down his shorts and boxers, making good on his promises, and kissing new marks into his skin.

 

~*~

 

Jaebum’s head was _throbbing_ by the time he climbed into the car after a job. The poor owner of an old tailor shop had called because their sewing needles were being thrown across the room, and measuring tapes controlled themselves, nearly cutting off the circulation of customers’ limbs while being measured. She said there had been one spirit there when her father originally owned the shop, but it was kind and had passed on peacefully after some time.

But this one had not been kind--it had dug its way out of the bridged world, blackened with the need for closure. It actually bit Jaebum’s arm and hissed when he harnessed the shop’s electricity into the tips of fingers. The vengeful, dark spirit dropped on all fours, long scraggly limbs bending in all the wrong places. And just as he had gone to spell it away, it caught his ankle and he fell backwards onto the floor. The original energy of it fogged his mind with memories of a blood-stained wedding dress, the bells echoing across the cold, empty church. He saw his own blood beginning to oxidize within his veins, skin turning to ice and his body seizing.

The shop owner was armed with only a fire extinguisher and fabric scissors, and she managed to annoy it enough to pause poisoning Jaebum with its tragedy. He wasn’t subtle at all when chanting his spell and he could only explain it away as the oldest version of Latin. She didn’t question anything, paying him for his success, and wished him a safe drive.

But that _thing_ had rattled his brain. His head sloshed and scrambled and ached, with sharp pains shooting through his neck and ankle. He was still trembling, terrified his blood still hadn’t regained a regular flow, but he refused to call the others to pick him up. The house wasn’t far and traffic was lighter in the afternoon.

He held his stomach with one hand and controlled the steering with the other. The window was down; he hunched over slightly and squinted his eyes in the overcast daylight. He took a corner too tight and ran over the corner of the sidewalk--luckily there were no pedestrians, but driving was a big mistake. He swerved lanes like a drunk who was texting and driving. He purposely ran two red lights, and drove right through a four-way stop sign without looking. When he finally saw the driveway, he sped up to the house and didn’t hit the brakes until he almost crashed through the porch railing.

His legs buckled when he slid out of the car, and his weight fell against a wood post. He used it as leverage and grabbed the other posts as he walked to the stairs, and relied heavily on the railing and the structure of the house to keep him upright. His chest strained. His breathing sounded more like asthmatic wheezing, but he stumbled into the house, getting Youngjae’s attention.

“Oh my god,” he ran over from the couch and offered his shoulders as a crutch. “What happened? Are you okay?”

There were buzzing black spots in his vision. He closed his eyes and swallowed. “Jackson,” his voice squeezed out. “Need Jackson.”

Youngjae carefully laid him on the couch with a square pillow under his head. “He’s in the scary hall, but I’ll find him.”

The scary hall was the left hall Youngjae disappeared down, but that was the extent of Jaebum’s view. He could only see black after that, which was simultaneously too damn bright and ridiculously dark. With each movement, his limbs wanted to freeze up; the shooting pain reached from his ankles to his side this time, like a fuse was inside of him trying to blow up his organs. It was uncomfortable and he’d rather cut the pain out than deal with it any longer. He grunted and screamed and suffered alone.

Then Jackson’s tender hand touched his forehead and his voice sounded strong and sure. “Hyung, you’re going to be fine.”

Youngjae’s voice was shaking when he said something about his hands and blood, but he took them into his own anyway.

“He doesn’t have a concussion, but he’s got a nice bruise coming.” His fingertips put a light amount of pressure at his temples. “Venom,” he spit out dangerously. Jaebum heard the tearing of cloth and the piece being wrapped around his shoulder. “And you _drove_ back? Do you know what Mark hyung and Jinyoungie would do if they knew?” He tied off the makeshift bandage. “Hit me for it later, but you’re an _idiot_.” He pressed hard onto the wound and Jaebum bowed off the couch in pain. Youngjae was trying to shush him through it. Jackson’s hand slowly released, and something sharp scratched its way out. “You know this would have been better to do on the spot.” He sighed. “Okay, Youngjae, keep him there. I have to make an antidote. And do not let him speak.” Jackson’s footsteps disappeared and Jaebum’s head throbbed with every clanging and clashing and fast movements happening in the kitchen.

“It’ll be okay, hyung. He’s a good healer, right? The pain will be gone soon.” Youngjae rambled to comfort them both. He still held Jaebum’s hands and nuzzled his face against the backs of them.

Jaebum wanted to blame it on his fuzziness and lack of being able to open his eyes, but he swore Youngjae kissed the tips of his knuckles. He tried to free his hands, but his arms never moved. He went to sit up but Youngjae gently berated him and said he’d tell Jackson if he didn’t stay laying down. And his voice refused to form words instead of wheezing, so he just resigned to Youngjae’s bedside manners.

There was a poof sound followed by a burst of steam hitting them and Jackson yelped, calling out he was fine. He came back and cradled Jaebum’s head in his arm. He could feel him try to will away the bruising without losing control of it. “Warning, it’ll taste like shit, but it’s the only way to recover.”

“Can’t you ever spell that stuff to taste good?” Youngjae gagged at the mere smell of it.

“A flavor spell is technically another ingredient, which would throw off the entire chemical structure of the potion. So, sorry, but open up, hyung.”

Jackson was worse than right.

Not only was the texture similar to runny, uncooked eggs, it tasted like every soured dairy item combined and reheated using the boiler of a ship that had sunk in sewage water. He was pretty sure he vomited on his shirt and dug half moons into Youngjae’s palms. And then it was gone and only the awful, acidic taste remained.

“Don’t brush your teeth for an hour. The pain will be nearly gone, but you will still be incredibly unbalanced. Oh, and don’t be surprised if you puke later. It’ll just be your body ridding you of the rest of the venom.”

Great. Too bad he couldn’t roll his eyes.

“It’s okay if he falls asleep,” Jackson addressed Youngjae. “You okay, too?”

“Yeah,” the younger audibly swallowed. “Seeing it isn’t even close to living it.”

Jackson left and it was just the two of them. Youngjae pressed a damp cloth to the tips of Jaebum’s fingers first, having to clean under his nails, as well. He wrapped the cloth around his wrists for a couple moments because Youngjae had heard cooling the wrists was a good calming technique. He lifted Jaebum’s shirt to get to his side and dabbed the cloth carefully over it. It didn’t sting like alcohol would have, but Jaebum could tell when he wanted to cut the pain out, he had really tried to dig it out with his nails. There was a dull burn but it quickly went away. It wasn’t a major injury compared to his shoulder and scrambled mind, and it would probably be the first thing to heal.

“You should have brought someone with you, hyung.”

He had debated, but everyone had their personal businesses to attend to. The spirit wasn’t supposed to have attacked him like this. There was more to it than just an escaped vengeance from Hell’s pit of wrongful deaths. That thing _knew_ of Jaebum and tore into him like a wild dog with raw meat. It was personal. And now it was obvious that he shouldn’t go alone, no matter the category and level the job fell under. Even if he hadn’t driven, the situation could have been worse if he called and waited at the tailor shop.

“Your life is important, too. Even if we aren’t witches, we can find ways to help you, if you let us.” He wrung the cloth into a metal bowl and set it, folded, onto his forehead. “We can help, too.”

Jaebum sat up so fast his ears rang and his face reddened, breath stuck in his lungs and he teetered near the edge of the couch, but Youngjae slipped his arm around his waist and settled him down again. Their line of work wasn’t anything they could get involved in. They were possibly the ones leading them to their goal, but in no way were they going to voluntarily be apart of their hunts.

Humans could not be trained in magic, and Jaebum figured half the time they’d be too distracted keeping the youngest three alive that they’d lose sight of whatever monster they had been called to fight. It was better to avoid that potential mess and encourage them to do their schoolwork and campus activities, and only be involved when they were forced to.

“I know we don’t have magic, but we can learn Jackson hyung’s non-magic remedies, or take service calls, or do pre-setting with candles and stuff. We don’t have to be just another beginning of your war. We can be your support in it.”

It was still too dangerous to even think about. Once they were officially part of the coven, the soul of the king would go after them harder than he already had. It wouldn’t just be Bambam next time. And Jaebum was growing possessive of them already, ready to tear anything apart with his own hands and teeth that would hurt them.

Jaebum sighed and found the strength to lift his arm and threaded his fingers in Youngjae’s hair. He tugged more than he played with it and Youngjae softly whimpered. Jaebum stopped right then and curled his hand against his chest. “It’s fine...if you do that,” Youngjae reassured.  

Jaebum attempted to shake his head. “Later,” he croaked. “I’m...I should rest.”

Youngjae got up and Jaebum noticed his vision wasn’t as black, and the light he saw behind his eyelids dimmed to a comfortable shadow. The younger put another pillow by his head so it wouldn’t roll into the cracks of the couch. He re-wet the towel and cleaned Jaebum’s face with it, and pat his shoulder wound over the bandage to cool the swelling underneath. It stung, but nothing like it had been. When that task was finished, Youngjae unfolded a throw blanket and tossed it over him, carefully sidling in beside him on the edge of the couch.

“This way I’ll fall off and you won’t,” and Jaebum could hear the caring grin in his voice. Jaebum ended up playing with Youngjae’s hair as a mundane movement to help himself fall asleep. Youngjae put his hand over Jaebum’s on his chest and curled up until his forehead touched their entwined knuckles. “You’ll be fine, hyung. We’ll be okay.”

 

Jaebum dreamt of grey stone walls and quick hands; moans echoing in an empty throne room. There were footsteps and looming shadows until the walls caved in further and further and he ran out of clean air to breathe because it had all turned to fire, the moans roaring into pained, maniacal laughter. He heard screaming, and someone telling him they always knew he was just a rank fucker, that he hadn’t gotten this high up in the caste system on merit alone. Heat melted his skin, burning the surface until it was just dead and flaking, boiling and bleeding once it hit the next layer. The floor opened under him and he tugged on invisible chains because he’d rather follow the voice down than stay in this torture room. He tried harder, but his wrists couldn’t be freed. He watched the shadow in front of him slink their way down into the open floor, calling him a worthless traitor before jumping in.

Jaebum yelled after it, chains clinking against the wall they were bound to. He wasn’t a traitor; he didn’t do this. He didn’t make _any_ of this happen. He called after the shadow again and when it didn’t show, he gave up and sunk to his knees, close to mournful crying. The floor turned into stone once more, and he startled awake, gasping for air.

Youngjae woke up with him in a shock, but Jaebum explained his choking as just the rest of the healing process and reassured Youngjae that he was fine. He said it wasn’t a nightmare. He got up to brush that foul taste out of his mouth and took a quick shower to scrub the invisible burnt skin off his body.

He still didn’t feel clean.

 

~*~

 

“You were attacked and poisoned by a Bridesbane.” Mark stated, because Jackson had briefed them all on why their fearless leader was recovering.

“Yes.” Jaebum replied without looking at him.

“But that hasn’t happened since,” Mark searched his brain.

“1894. I know, trust me. And even outside of the attack, this one was different from the incidents in 1954 _and_ 1972.”

Mark whistled. “1972 was a real bitch.”

“This Bridesbane had a personal vendetta against me. The owner even said she tried three other exorcists, and the one before had recommended us as a final resort.”

“Do you think he summoned it?”

“It seemed more like an escapee, though it is possible he gained control of it, or released it so it could escape. They would have similar energies after both feeling _wronged_ somehow.” Jaebum sneered. The entire situation was fucked up. If the soul knew where Jaebum was and wanted a piece of him, why didn’t he ever show his face and live up to his powers again? They’d both destroy each other and peace would be restored and the rest of his coven could go back to the realm they were exiled from because of him.

“No. Nope, you don’t get to do that,” Mark crossed the room and sat on Jaebum’s lap. “No blaming yourself. We work together and we all have equal fault in this situation.” He pulled playfully at Jaebum’s earlobes, but truthfully it felt nice and comforting. “We’re just glad you lived.” Mark kissed the corner of his lips and rubbed their noses together. He grinned ear to ear. “Jinyoungie is going to _murder_ you, though.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll watch because it’s going to be beautiful,” he whispered, sucking on Jaebum’s lobe piercing.

He involuntarily bucked up against Mark and softly gasped, and Mark bit along his jawline, telling him he’d give him exactly what he needed for temporary relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the time for a little bit of porn has come. the kids are all moved in, things are Happening.  
> also say hello to greg, jackson's screaming plant. she's very misunderstood. 
> 
> as always if you'd like hate me up on [my cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor) and [my twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor)


	7. Scene VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i highly advise you to keep every single tag in mind and read the new ones thank you

Yugyeom fell into a pattern--he stayed in the basement library as long as he could stand after doing homework, took photos of the pages he planned to read next, and then hopped on the bus to school in the morning. Most of the books were too fragile or rare to carry with him. He didn’t even keep  _ Moon Ailments and Healing _ in his backpack; it was just the amethyst and moonstone gem in the front zipper pocket. Sometimes he managed to continue reading his digital pages on the bus, and other times he dozed off on Youngjae’s or Bambam’s shoulder. 

He was becoming a part of a whole new layer of the world, and only had so much time to catch up. The coven’s jobs were becoming more dangerous, and he needed to know anything and everything they’d be dealing with. He’d be the one behind the front lines to pull them away, or distract their enemy for long enough so they had a recovery period. He wasn’t about to sit around in their living room and not learn their rules. 

And human lifespans in comparison were  _ nothing _ . Scaled down, he’d probably only be in their life for a fraction of a second, or half a day at best. And he needed that to mean something. 

After his own classes were over, he sat outside the student building on the edge of a tiled planter, holding mostly dirt and ground level plants. He had brought one physical book because there were two copies, and this was the most recent duplicate. It was a small encyclopedia of commonly summoned demons and spirits. He was trying to connect the dots between what they fought, and the soul of their king. If Yugyeom could make a line predicting what might come for them next, they’d be ahead and leave the battle unscathed. 

Maybe he could even find the trail leading to the soul’s hiding place. 

His head was in the lore, but he was trying desperately not to sleep on the pages when Bambam leaned in between the book and his face to grab his attention. He lowered the open book onto his lap. “Look Gyeomie, I know you’re into this, but you’re looking a little…”

Yugyeom’s left eye twitched. “A little  _ what,  _ Bammie?” 

Bambam put his hands on his hips and glanced up into the sky. “Just, um, a little tired? Maybe? That’s all.” He sounded uncertain, and Yugyeom just wanted to keep studying destructive and vengeful beings so he didn’t feel so useless. Bambam sat beside him without another word. 

Yugyeom rested his elbow on his knee, palm holding his cheek. His eyes were drooping and he shook awake every few seconds, forgetting which sentence he was on. He even tried to focus on the pictures and captions to speed through, but Youngjae snuck up from behind and took the book right out of his hands. “Hyung!” He reached up for it. Lacking sleep had taken a toll on his balance and motor skills, though, and his head hit the frozen dirt behind him. Just laying down made him feel dizzy, and he doubted if the sky above was within his reality. 

“Gyeom-ah,” Youngjae sighed. He looked at him from above with concerned disappointment. “When did you last sleep? And I don’t mean a two hour cat nap.” 

Bambam rattled off some kind of ridiculous number that didn’t exist in Yugyeom’s current scale of things. “Think we’re going on seventy three hours, forty five minutes and,” Bam glanced at his watch, “twenty seconds.” 

“You’re over like, a half hour,” Yugyeom groaned. 

“Standing in line for your coffee and dessert of a breakfast does not count as extra sleep. The half hour stays.” 

Yugyeom did his best to sit up, reaching again for the book when Youngjae handed it to Bambam for safe keeping. “There’s too much to do, hyung! What happened to Jaebum hyung--” 

“Couldn’t be avoided.” Youngjae placed his hands on Yugyeom’s shoulders and crouched down. “He’s worried about us getting involved. If we do any more, he thinks the soul will do more harm than it already has.” He closed his eyes and lowered his gaze to the planter’s edge. “Those books don’t have answers for this.” 

“But I’m so  _ close _ . I can find his next move if I just read the rest--” 

“And what then?” Bambam rested his hand on Yugyeom’s knee. “We worry about losing you, too? This stuff they deal with…” He swallowed hard and pointed to his temple. “It fucks you up,” his voice cracked. “You don’t want to voluntarily become a target.” 

It was true that he didn’t know what happened mentally. He had only experienced the Night Terror, which was more than enough. What Bambam went through wasn’t anything he could even try to sympathize with from his own nightmare. He wasn’t blind to the aftermath--some mornings his friend wasn’t in his own bed, sneaking in between Jaebum and Jinyoung in the early mornings, or stealing Jackson’s cuddles from Mark because it was the only way he was going to sleep again. 

But in Yugyeom’s mind, they were already targets because of those instances. They were fully in this and they had a right to be armed with knowledge and the skills to save each other when there would be no one else. Learning it all in preparation just meant sacrificing sleep. He was willing to be near the front lines if it meant giving the coven back their home and keeping his friends alive. 

“I would do it.” 

“It’s not  _ cool _ ,” Bambam yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “I know your brain is  _ tired  _ and slow right now, and believes it’s something  _ heroic _ , but it’s  _ terrifying _ , Yug. We can’t defend ourselves like they can. We can watch when they return and clean their wounds after the magic poison is taken out, like hyung did, but we can’t do anything else about it. No matter how much you read.” He held both sides of Yugyeom’s face and made him look at him. “This one isn’t our war.” He softly tucked a stray lock of hair behind Yugyeom’s ear, and smiled sad. And fond. “You won’t live much longer if you don’t sleep, anyway.” 

Youngjae stood up, his hand easily finding its way to Yugyeom’s. “I can call witch hyungs; have Jackson hyung make you a sleep remedy. But, you have to take a  _ break _ from this. You can’t fight with them. You know that.” 

His eyes were burning and his chest was heavy against his heart. He had said before he wasn’t stupid enough to run towards the danger. Logically, he knew he couldn’t join them on their jobs, but he’d help keep them alive even if it did kill him. He would have to sleep if he wanted to get that far. So, he sighed tiredly and gave in to their concern. 

He convinced them not to call the coven and he dozed off on the bus, and his friends often poked him so he’d stay conscious enough to exit at their stop. His feet dragged along the field and up the porch steps; he tripped on one, but Youngjae kept him steady. Mark was on the couch teasing Nora with a fluff ball on the end of a stick, and he quirked an eyebrow after taking one look at them. “What the hell happened to you?” 

“Reading,” Youngjae said at the same time Bambam said, “Studying.” 

Mark opened his mouth and nodded, leaving them to get Yugyeom into bed. He didn’t make it any further than the double-king bedroom and they laid him down, gently, near the edge. Youngjae helped him unzip his jacket and peeled the sleeves off, while Bambam slipped off his shoes and belt. They pulled the covers over him, and the last thing he remembered was Youngjae’s hand in his hair and Bambam setting the healing stone on the windowsill by the headboard. 

 

*

 

Surprisingly, Bambam wasn’t tired. He kept an eye on his best friends, Yugyeom deep in a slumber he figured would last a whole day, and Youngjae had dragged a chair in to sit and read without disturbing Yugyeom, but ended up falling asleep with his head resting on his arms on the mattress. Bambam had taken some time to actually study his class materials, going over his notes on color theory and the main ways of filtering and correcting a video to bring out its true color. It was a good way to escape the confines of his mind for awhile. 

When he felt like he caught up, he decided to take some candids of his friends. He wouldn’t use the photos for blackmail or birthday teasing; he just wanted to keep them personal, as a moment to revisit when things got bad. 

And he knew they were going to get bad. 

This was like the calm before the  _ first _ storm. They were floating comfortably now, because there was a quiet, drowning wave coming. And they might not survive it. 

He had felt the danger, deeper than his bones when the Fae attacked him. They hadn’t spoken with voices, but their whispers had reverberated within his very existence, and they had warned the seven of them would be taken, no matter how hard they fought. Eventually, everything was bound to break down. He had seen a dark world with nothing left in it; barren lands still emitting smoke from the embers that couldn’t be put out; millions injured, dead, or missing, and a town of mirrors with looming shadows and black magic running rampant. There was no control. Just absolute freedom and chaos. 

As spacious as the bedroom was, Bambam escaped into the living room because the walls were slowly caving in. His short mental break had ended, and now he couldn’t stop remembering his trauma. He blankly cooked up some vegetables and noodles, and ate slowly over the coffee table in the living room. 

His food had sadly gone cold because he didn’t eat fast enough, and he was only tapping his chopsticks against the bottom of the bowl when Jackson and Jaebum came home, loudly energetic. Jackson held an open, wooden crate and shuffled down the left hall with it, glancing at Bambam as he went. Jaebum hung his long, black wool trench coat on the hook, and slipped out of his black suit jacket, folding it neatly over his arm. 

He tossed a glance at Bambam, and Bambam watched the older witch’s back disappear into the big room, and he came out empty handed. He closed the door quietly, and stayed there, just observing Bambam. He wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting; what could Jaebum possibly find worth observing? He was wasting time burrowing further into his shell, losing a battle against apathy because it was better than letting his hurt turn to anger. He wasn’t eating much, feeling responsible for his friends nearly being dragged into a hell he still knew nothing about. 

To Bambam, Jaebum was the intriguing one. He kind of owed Jaebum his life, two times over, but it was also his fault they were in this living arrangement. If he hadn’t have had a goddamn sharpie when they decided to play around with  _ demons _ , the first tear in the borders wouldn’t have existed. Maybe the soul of their king was only out because of that. He was the root of it, and his energy stayed connected to the demonic minions that could cut him down again and again. It was like the soul was simply  _ toying  _ with the coven, using Bambam as the trap over and over again. 

And Bambam hated that; he didn’t mean to interrupt what little peace they had found. Didn’t mean to interrupt Jaebum’s stability and add to his burdens.

He blinked at Jaebum, and the man pushed up the sleeves of his black turtleneck. He strode over and instead of sitting next to Bambam on the floor, or on the seat of the couch beside his head, Jaebum dramatically lifted his leg over Bambam, sitting in the middle cushion so Bambam was between his legs. He leaned over his shoulder, both hands touching his bowl until it was warm again. He let go and wrapped his hands loosely around Bambam’s neck, and he screeched from Jaebum’s cold hands. 

“See what happens when you don’t eat?” Jaebum pressed a little harder, but not for long. 

And then there was nothing. Bambam slumped fully back against the couch. “I wasn’t going to waste it.” He swirled his chopsticks in the noodles and ate another bite to appease Jaebum. 

“What’s mushing up your already vaporized brain?” 

He wanted to be fake offended. 

He wanted to say:  _ everything _ . 

He sighed instead, placing his bowl on the coffee table and folding his legs against his chest. “Everyone wants to be a goddamn hero,” he pouted. “It’s stupid.” 

The cushion puffed behind him and Jaebum’s legs stretched out around him, like the elder had leaned against the back of the couch. “It’s the nature of human compassion and empathy. See someone in danger or hurting, you want to save them. That’s how this realm is  _ supposed  _ to work, though it’s rare when humanity abides by those natural laws.” He said it all so nonchalantly. 

“Do you do this to save people?” Bambam didn’t even think when he let his weight drag him sideways to lean on Jaebum’s thigh. 

“We do it because we have to. Jinyoungie’s past…” His hand slapped down beside where Bambam’s head was resting. “Well, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and has extended himself too far for people in this realm. They’ve fucked him over, but he still cares. He might do it to save people, but he still doesn’t see himself as a hero. He mostly does what he does because if he doesn’t...we don’t hold together, and neither does this world.” The tips of Jaebum’s fingers tugged gently at the top strands of Bambam’s hair. “We lose one, we lose it all.” 

“Yeah,” Bambam whispered. “I get what you mean.” Heroes were only labeled as such after dying. And he’d be lost if anything happened to his friends.

He sat up just enough to reach his bowl, and continued to lay against Jaebum’s leg, eating what he could handle while Jaebum lazily played with his hair. 

 

*

 

“Bam-ah,” Jackson called from the left hall. 

Jaebum had long since disappeared into the bedroom, and Bambam had taken a seat at the dining table to examine the scratches and discoloration and chipped corners, the wood scarred but still useful. It was satisfying to trace the patterns with his fingernails, something empty to distract himself until Youngjae and Yugyeom woke up. 

But they were still sleeping, and Jackson sounded like he could use him. And yet, he still sat there, blank and quiet, wasting his time with an old slab of stained and glossed wood. 

The floor groaned and creaked and Jackson’s shadow loomed over him. When he didn’t bother to pay attention, Jackson hooked his chin over Bambam’s shoulder. “I know you heard me. I wanna show you something.” 

“M’busy.” 

“No, you’re just ruining our already ruined table. Which, by the way, is probably older than the dinosaurs.” 

Bambam scoffed, but he laid his palm flat against the cool surface. “It’s a good table.” 

“Mark hyung and I once had sex on this table,” Jackson shrugged. 

“Ew,” Bambam cringed and twisted his hand away. He stood up, not caring at all when Jackson’s chin fell onto the arched back of the dining chair, and he continued into the kitchen to wash his hands and arms in scalding hot water. “You could have just kept that to yourself.” 

“It got you to move, didn’t it?” Jackson met him in the area between the two distinct spaces. “Now will you follow me? Please? It’ll be really cool, I promise.” His big brown eyes grew bigger, and he stuck his bottom lip out. 

Bambam was wary, especially with how often Jackson’s magic could run wild, but he couldn’t turn down that face. That, or Jackson had manipulated the energy around them to make Bambam calm down enough to want to follow along. He wasn’t sure which was less embarrassing. “Okay, fine. Just, stop doing the thing,” he gestured vaguely in the air. 

“What thing?” Jackson perked up. 

“The puppy thing with your face. It’s gross.” Bambam didn’t know where they were going, but he walked ahead of Jackson anyway. 

“It’s cute and you know it,” he chased after him and teasingly pushed him forward. He kept an arm on Bambam’s shoulder and steered him into the right room. It was located at the end of the wing, and inside were two curved walls were entirely made of windows. The other walls connecting towards the door were the same shade of natural wood as the rest of the house. On the floor was the border of a rug, mostly deep forest green with a wild script of characters embroidered in gold thread. In the middle, where the rug’s inner rectangle should have been, there was a black X, reaching to the border’s four inner corners. On the center of the X was one of his plants. 

It didn’t seem like much to Bambam. It was an ordinary thing, with leaves and a bit of fuzz and unbloomed buds, deadened roots spilling over the decorative stone pot. He didn’t really see what was so interesting about it, other than it being a portion of nature trying to survive in the completely wrong environment. 

“Adorable, right?” Jackson squealed. 

“Yeah,  _ super _ adorable,” Bambam deadpanned. 

Jackson guided him inside until he stepped inside the border. “Will you trust me?” 

Bambam had already experienced a pale death twice. He didn’t have much to lose by trusting the witch who helped save him the first time. “Sure, hyung. I’ll trust you.” 

“Okay, then face me for a sec.” 

He did. Jackson cradled Bambam’s cheek and ran his fingernail over the other one in a pattern, tracing out a letter or a word or a  _ spell _ . Bambam felt his soul dissipating and scrambling to exist on an entirely new dimension where no one could reach it. After this, he was done being an easy target. No more magic. He’d move back into the dorm or forego his international education and return to Thailand to be with his family. He could become a tour guide for sure.

“I can hear you not trusting me,” Jackson mumbled, still concentrating on his invisible writing. He switched sides and drew on the other cheek. “For this to work how it needs to, you  _ have  _ to trust me. It won’t harm you, okay?” Bambam nodded and Jackson nail-inked across his forehead. “In our realm, that flower used to bloom twice a year, and when I tried to cultivate it here, I learned it would bloom every twenty-five  _ years _ , and only when certain conditions were met. We’re meeting those conditions right now.” 

“What are the conditions?” 

Jackson’s fingers curved around his ears and he leaned closer to focus on his earlobe. “Trust, for one. A setting sun, for another.” He stepped back and ran his finger down the bridge of Bambam’s nose. “And lastly, someone who is too worried about the damage magic can do, but trusts the magician.” 

The very magic that saved him was also responsible for the hurt he experienced. It wasn’t exactly his fault he focused on how terrible and dangerous it was. It brought in absolute horrors from a dark abyss they shouldn’t have found out about. 

“It’s not the magic that’s damaging, it’s the magician wielding it.” His eyes pleaded for Bambam to understand, like he wanted him to see it could be good. He was desperate, and then Bambam blinked and the desperation was gone. “Turn again.” After he did, Jackson drew a line from the top of his scalp to the end of his spine. Just for fun, he tapped his butt. “Now, sit criss-crossed on the center and hold the pot on your lap.” 

Bambam did as he instructed, feeling the weight of the plant settle into his lap. His fingers traced along the raised patterns of the pot and he stared out the window, to see the skies turning warm and golden the lower the sun set into the land. Jackson had one of his rune tiles between his fingers, soaking in the leaking light. He closed his eyes and spun the tile, throwing it behind his back and flawlessly catching it with the other hand, holding it once again between his index and middle finger. He hummed a slow melody and brought his hands together in a prayer when the light turned to shadows. 

Bambam was transfixed by his movements, impressed with how it seemed like he had mastered the air itself, and was simply bending it to his will instead of knowing how to drift within it. It was ritualistic, and at the end, Jackson set a short glass cup on the floor and crushed the rune tile over it. 

The dust liquified into a pale pink water. 

“Walk it over here,” Jackson said, pointing to the corner where the windowed walls met to form the curve. He then poured the water around the roots, and stepped back. “You’ll love it,” he whispered, standing beside Bambam. 

Bambam didn’t know what to expect, and out of fearful curiosity, needing grounding, he held Jackson’s hand. 

Gradually, the shadows broke apart with moonlight, and the reflections hit the plant just right. 

The deadened roots curled around the outside of the pot and the leaves folded down. The buds reached forward towards the window, and one by one, they opened, each stem moving until it formed a perfect circle. The blooming petals were like velvet, colored deep purple on the ends and fading into a pale fuschia. Each bud had released a light of its own which settled against the highest window pane, like they longed to be among the stars. 

Bambam bravely stepped forward and Jackson didn’t stop him. Their hands slid against each other until it was just a brush of fingertips, and Bambam reached towards the height of the window with his free hand. He spread his fingers and gazed through to the flecks of starlight. They trailed down in a line and swirled around his open hand. It was warm and loving, and he giggled a little when the light tickled his palm. 

Jackson gasped in awe. “Now that’s never happened before.” 

Bambam faced him and put his illuminated hand between their gazes. “What is this?” 

“Love potion number five,” Jackson laughed. 

Bambam was not as amused. “No, really, how is this possible? What does it do?” 

Jackson lifted his hand and carefully held it in front of Bambam’s. When the light connected to his, their palms pressed together. He leaned his head to the side and softly smiled. “It’s love. The flower is called a Sunsift--blooms when the conditions are met, and after tasting the sun, it sifts through the liquid energy to find what it needs, and releases these little star dusts.” His eyes were sparkling with wonder. “They help lessen ailments of the heart; not emotional ones, and it’s not a cure. Not in this realm, anyway. But, the medicine made with these is stronger than anything else. So, they’re literally love to help heal the heart.” He tilted his head to the other side and glanced at Bambam. “Normally, they’re difficult to bring down from the ceiling, but they came to you. It was beautiful, right?” 

Bambam watched the light twist and tie their hands together, a few straying to their wrists. And near the window, the plant happily sighed back into the pot, petals closing into buds and leaves standing up until it was ready to love again. 

“Yeah,” he relieved his worries. “It was beautiful.” 

Magic was definitely dangerous depending on the witch, but here, in this moment, he let himself enjoy the good that could come of it. 

 

*

 

The day had dragged on, but the night tucked them in comfortably, and Jaebum couldn’t help but think maybe this was his family now. The coven always was, and would be more than a family, but they supported the younger ones financially, educationally, and watched over their interest in magic to make sure they didn’t drown. Jaebum, in basic terms, had somehow become their guardian. Someone responsible for keeping them informed and alive. 

It was Yugyeom that had called him to the school the next afternoon. Youngjae had been on his way out of the piano hall when something pushed him into the railing, the railing being the only reason he hadn’t fallen right off onto the first floor of the building. The spirit was easier to squish than an ant, in comparison to what they had been fighting lately. But, the residue of it was disgustingly magical, already eating his leather gloves until they were barely anything at all. Whoever was causing this damage, going after these kids, knew their every move and their connection to the coven. 

Jaebum cursed the king’s soul for being a fucking  _ coward _ , attacking struggling college students to get to him, instead of picking the last fight with witches of his own caliber. 

Luckily, it hadn’t tried to infect Youngjae with any darkness. The only sign it ever happened was a gradually blooming bruise on his shoulder from where he hit the metal barrier. Jackson had made up an ice bag with healing herbs so the ache would disappear faster than the blue and purple coloration. Even if it was minuscule, Jaebum logged it in his journal in the study after Youngjae insisted he’d be just fine. And Jaebum had stayed in his study too long, not watching the time and forgetting the moonlit shadows were not from his eyes closing. 

Jinyoung lightly tapped on his door and brought him down for dinner. The kids said there was a campus holiday, so they had a longer weekend to enjoy a real break. There was an extensive amount of ramen made, which Mark added sausage, tteokbokki, eggs, and cheese to. And then he set a sinful black box on the middle of the dining table. 

Cards Against Humanity. 

Youngjae was trying to keep his shoulder still and comfortable, and passed on joining in. Jaebum opted out as well, content enough to eat his fill on the couch while watching the others devolve into utter chaos. He left his empty bowl on the coffee table and stretched out along the couch, an elbow on the arm of it so he could keep his head propped. Originally, Youngjae had been on the floor in front of the couch, and then he tried to get cozy under Jaebum’s feet, and when that didn’t work, he just worked his way to sit between Jaebum’s legs with his back resting on Jaebum’s chest. 

Jaebum hooked his ankles around Youngjae’s calves so his outer leg wouldn’t dangle off. The rest of his makeshift family had been hilarious entertainment, but now he was calm and absently rearranging Youngjae’s hair. He even made an attempt to create small braids with his longer strands. It was more silly than cute and Jaebum was glad he had a passion for photography and not hair styling. 

He did want to photograph Youngjae. One day. When he didn’t have service calls to take and they weren’t being attacked by an invisible power. He’d want him to be having fun, smiling wider than the sun in Summer, eyes reflecting with the happiness of surfing on a wave. Riding the high until he glided safely to shore. 

Jaebum would find him wandering their wheat field, a soft breeze shifting stray pieces of his bangs to fall over the bridge of his nose. He could wear one of Jaebum’s white button-ups and have the dying sunlight shape him with an angelic glow. Jaebum would be torn on processing it in color, where the warmer tones and his pure energy of life would hold the frame, or in black and white where the lighting would pop, highlighting his sharper physical features.  

It was too early for love and strong attraction, and he simply labeled it as adoration so he didn’t scare himself. But when Youngjae’s lungs expanded against him, and he settled deeper, when he took Jaebum’s hand from his hair to hold it and amuse himself with their differences, and when he studied him from afar, Jaebum thought of someone he barely remembered the face of. 

It was honestly a nightmare having forgotten the face of his king, but he remembered what loving him was like, even amongst his hurt and hate. Their mingled laughter and late-night worries echoed in his ear every night. He had memorized the booming command of his voice when he brought judgement upon those who insulted Jaebum for not being the royal blood he should have been. 

And the last, tearful breath he took before throwing himself into an endless void. 

Because it was better to exist  _ somewhere _ than live in fear of a lie. 

Jaebum’s chest seized and he shakily breathed in. He deserved to live in an endless void, too. 

How could he compare someone who trusted him  _ wholly _ , who he knew the face of, who was warm against his chest, with a king that hated him? Who sought to destroy him and his coven and the kids they brought into this?

How could he even  _ think  _ this might grow into something more, when all loving Youngjae would do is put him in more danger? He couldn’t be that type of leader, chasing a cure for his heartbreak. His pain was far too deep for Youngjae to be a cure. 

But maybe, Jaebum could allow him to be his medicine. 

 

*

 

Youngjae’s shoulder barely ached now. He knew it would still bruise, but the soreness of it was gone--a Jackson guarantee. Jaebum’s presence probably helped distract his mind from it even being there. He really would have been willing to join Cards Against Humanity, but he needed just a little time to process how dangerous their campus was. It wasn’t like they could  _ stop  _ going, or forsake everything they’d done already to find online courses so they’d be in this house until they died. 

At least his hand didn’t get hurt or sprained. He had bent his index finger a bit too hard around a bar on the railing, but that was all. If he had moved one second later, or had been one centimeter off, he’d have to leave the school’s piano alone for awhile. If that had happened, he’d crawl into Hell just to find what was responsible and kill it again. 

As if he hadn’t thought that with the demons that had hurt his friends. Hurt the coven. 

That hurt Jaebum. 

Youngjae wasn’t really one to think too much on relationships. He knew Yugyeom had a thing for him, and Bambam was willing to fool around with anyone who liked him back, but Youngjae had aspirations to build a perfectly fated relationship. He’d maybe fall in love with someone who held an umbrella over his head when he forgot one that day. Maybe someone paid for his coffee and they’d make small talk. He even thought Bambam was a soulmate instance; his soulmate in distress with wet notebooks and pens scattering when his bag ripped. But the boy was frustrated and timid, and Youngjae’s heart only crushed with worry. 

He was waiting for that beat-skipping moment. And he didn’t think kissing Yugyeom would be that moment. He couldn’t disappoint him with false hopes like that. 

But, there was something different about Jaebum. His heart couldn’t forget to beat because it was beating too much, trying to exhaust itself until Youngjae felt faint and overheated. He’d notice Jaebum staring at him from across the room, or when he thought no one else was looking. And even now, they weren’t facing each other and Youngjae still knew behind his awful hair braiding, Jaebum was boring a hole through his skull. 

He didn’t mind it, really. Jaebum’s gaze was never threatening or menacing; it was innocent and confused, like even he didn’t know why he did it. His concern was daringly adorable, and his affectionate touches were hesitant and gentle. Youngjae liked having his attention. Even outside of wanting a movie-worthy, fateful romance, he’d be attracted to Jaebum without prompting. During work, he was obviously the most intimidating one appearance wise, with his broad shoulders and confident stance; clothes the same shade of black, and his hair usually styled back. 

And having his hair silver or black didn’t make a difference. Because his presence was the same. But that first moment, when he saw how easily he controlled light with his  _ fingertips _ , Youngjae was the least bit intimidated. He thought Mark or Jinyoung were more intimidating; both seemed to be above Jaebum in a way, since he’d listen to their opinions and suggestions, or follow their commands when it mattered. Youngjae had heard them argue a bit when he came home early, and Jinyoung was the one to calm him down again. 

Power didn’t only come from presence and position for this coven. They were sort of equals, and looked out for each other. 

Youngjae hoped he had presented himself as Bambam and Yugyeom’s equal. He hoped the coven would eventually accept them as equals, too. 

Jaebum had sighed behind him and gave up braiding his hair, so Youngjae tugged one of Jaebum’s hands over his shoulder. Just to hold it, and feel the softness; to measure the length of their fingers in comparison. And then he noticed his pinky finger, a small crown of pale blue and yellow pansies with dark purple and green leaves alternating on either side of the looped, vining stems forming a complete ring. 

He touched around it with his nail. “What’s this, hyung?” He rolled slightly onto his side so his head rested on Jaebum’s shoulder, and the witch could look down at him. 

Jaebum looped his pinky around Youngjae’s finger. “It’s our promise, as a coven. We lead, we protect, we trust, and we survive as one. Until death,” he finished, quieter. 

Now he could see Jaebum’s eyes focus on their hands, where their fingers hooked together. He let Youngjae’s finger go. “It must be nice.” He tugged at his own sleeves and Jaebum’s fingers played with the collar of Youngjae’s tee shirt, thumbing over his collar bone. “Not the possibility of dying thing, but the promise. I’d want it.” 

“Maybe Thing One and Two will be that for you,” he jerked his head to the dining table, where the youngest threw his cards down in disgust. 

“If we survive this, maybe…” He wanted to say they could become apart of Jaebum’s promise, trust and protect with them, but it was presumptuous, and their tattoo was clearly just  _ theirs _ . He wasn’t going to tear that from him, so he left it alone. 

Jaebum stroked his jaw, gentle and caring. It made his heart ache. And then he did what seemed to be part of his nature--carefully ran his thumb over Youngjae’s mole, under his right eye. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let him do it a couple more times, and he could feel Jaebum’s gaze. He opened to see something longing, and quiet in his expression. Hesitant. There was a war happening in his mind, and Youngjae wanted to help him win it. 

“Why do you do that?” 

Jaebum’s thumb paused, and his fingers fell away completely. “Do what?” 

“It’s not the first time you’ve touched my mole, hyung. And, I know you stare at it.” He paused and lowered his voice. “At me.” He wanted to question how someone as visibly beautiful as Jaebum would long for someone like Youngjae. Like everyone else, he didn’t understand what an ancient witch found appealing about a human. 

Jaebum didn’t answer immediately. Youngjae shifted further up and he swung his legs out. His hands fell to Jaebum’s shoulders, and with his eyes down, Jaebum finally answered. “You just remind me of someone I once loved.” 

Youngjae stopped breathing and the gaming group’s howls and clapping deafened his hearing, the light in the room dimming around them. Maybe he was supposed to be offended, being compared to someone from the past, but his face only heated and his body trembled on the inside. He didn’t know why the confession had been laced with hurt, or why Youngjae twisted it into a compliment--into an invitation. 

His hands came up under Jaebum’s jaw, leaning forward until their lips touched. Jaebum had frozen, and Youngjae pulled away. 

That was wrong. He shouldn’t have done that. Jaebum wasn’t asking for them to be anything more than whatever they were right now. Was it even a friendship? He just heard the word love and wanted the pain in Jaebum’s eyes to disappear. “I’m sor--” 

Jaebum pulled him forward again, and it forced Youngjae to straddle his hips unless he wanted to stay awkwardly twisted. Jaebum kissed him, threading a hand in his hair. Youngjae moaned and opened just enough for Jaebum to lick into his mouth. 

The rest of the world disappeared. Youngjae’s chest was on  _ fire _ , flames turning his heartbeats to ashes, and Jaebum’s hold on him made phoenixes rise and claw to freedom. Youngjae had no idea what this was, only that he wanted more. Needed more. 

Youngjae’s back bowed, keeping his hands on the back of Jaebum’s neck, and the older witch sat higher on the couch. They hadn’t stopped kissing and sometimes their teeth clashed; Jaebum growled low when Youngjae grinded his ass down against Jaebum’s jeans. He lifted Youngjae’s shirt to pull it off, but he became far too focused on sucking on Youngjae’s lower lip and only managed to slip one of his arms out of it. He softly moaned and gripped Jaebum harder when he started biting down. 

And with his shirt half off, pants uncomfortably restricting, he was yanked away from Jaebum’s lips. 

“ _ Whoa _ you two,” Jinyoung said. 

“What’re you  _ doing _ ?” Mark sounded like he was berating Jaebum. 

“It’s the living room,” Jaebum heavily breathed, as if it was something that always happened here. 

Youngjae’s own chest was heaving, and he was still desperate for more. But Jinyoung had him by the collar, and he quietly whined. 

“Ex _ actly _ ,” Jinyoung exasperated. 

“Talk. Now,” Mark demanded, pulling Jaebum’s ear. Jaebum tried to adjust his pants so he wasn’t straining against the denim, but Mark left him no time. 

“Stay. Do not move,” and Jinyoung followed after them down the right hall. 

Youngjae didn’t bother fixing his shirt before slumping back. And when he looked forward, Bambam was banging his forehead against the table, Jackson disappeared to the left hall, and Yugyeom--

Yugyeom was staring at him like he had just cut him wide open and left him to bleed out. 

 

*

 

Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to be nice, so he punched the wall to soundproof it. The spell ripped all of their balance away for a moment, but Mark slammed the door shut without tripping, and Jinyoung paused his movements until he could walk without shaking. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Jaebum yelled. 

“No,  _ you  _ what the fuck,” Mark pettily responded. “That is  _ our  _ living room. And Youngjae is a  _ target _ .” 

“I  _ know _ .” Jaebum hissed. 

“Hyung, whatever this is, it’s okay,” Jinyoung said, rubbing his forehead. “You can like him, but someone is out there, just waiting to know which of those kids to hurt the most in order to hurt  _ you _ .” 

“Like you’re any different?” Jaebum was in disbelief. They were  _ one  _ coven, until the end. He hurt, they hurt. They hurt, he hurt. The soul would come after any of them, and  _ any  _ of those humans sitting in the living room simply for having been in this house. As a coven, they already cared about each of them, whether they could admit that or not. “He’s not just after me. We fucked it all up as a group, so we go down as a group. He could send a Terror after Yugyeom again to get to Jinyoung, or control Bambam to lure in Mark hyung and Jackson. We’re  _ all  _ wearing our hearts on our sleeves, and I’m not sorry for trying to keep mine sewn on.” 

Mark bristled and walked until their toes touched. He grabbed Jaebum’s forearm. “ _ You  _ are what keeps it sewn on.  _ We  _ help each other keep them sewn on. But for as much shit as we’ve survived, you’re still a stupid, closed off  _ asshole _ .” 

Jaebum growled through his teeth and silently threatened to strangle his thin neck. Jinyoung forced Mark to step away and stand against the wall. “He  _ means  _ that sometimes you don’t tell us when you aren’t okay. You have a lot of baggage, as we all do. But we carry the weight  _ equally _ , and we can’t do that when you’re suppressing yourself.” Jinyoung carefully lifted Jaebum’s wrist and looked at him with concern. “How can you let Youngjae in and protect him, if you  _ still _ don’t let us in to protect  _ you _ ?” 

It was then Jaebum remembered that he didn’t hold light at his fingertips. 

At his true core, he controlled a darkness blacker than the deepest ocean. Except he knew what lived inside these depths.

His legs buckled and he fell to the floor. He hugged his knees in and pressed his palms to his eyes until he saw spots and rings and heard a high-pitched buzzing. 

“We’re not saying you can’t like him, Jaebum-ah.” Mark’s voice grew closer, and he side hugged him, rocking side to side. “We just don’t want anything irreversible to happen to  _ either  _ of you. And we’d like to know what goes on in our living room before it happens. We have to remember our communication rules. It’s not just us anymore, and we still don’t fully know  _ their  _ dynamics.”

“You’re allowed to have positive emotions, but just talk to us about it, hyung,” Jinyoung gently reiterated. 

The magic retracted from his fingertips and he fisted them against his chest, curling his whole body into Mark’s embrace. He lovingly kissed Jaebum’s hair and temple until he didn’t feel like crying anymore, and once the room was silent and steady again, Jinyoung pat his head. He bent down and Jaebum caught his gaze, more at ease seeing Jinyoung’s reassuring smile. Jinyoung hooked their pinkies together and kissed the corner of his lips before saying he needed to go back out for damage control. 

Mark lifted his mood with distracting ramblings about the dangers of Nora when Jaebum wasn’t around, or what happened after she was let out of the single, most fireproof room of the house. 

Nothing good, Mark assured. Nothing good at all. 

 

*

 

Jinyoung was far too late for damage control. Youngjae was standing outside Yugyeom’s closed door, with his forehead against the wood, tired fist resting like he had already knocked a thousand times. He tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and gestured to the living room. Jackson was in the kitchen, nervously boiling up as many potions as he had ingredients for, and Bambam had folded his head under the table and sounded like he was praying to the eye-bleaching gods. 

He told Youngjae to sit on the couch and wait for him--there wasn’t much else he could do right now. And then Jinyoung entered the kitchen. It startled Jackson enough that he dropped a small metal pot full of melted chili wax he used to make a fever remedy. And now it was all over the tile and Jackson’s pajama pants. “You’re...you’re  _ alive _ ,” he gasped dramatically and pulled Jinyoung in for a hug. 

Jinyoung slapped his shoulder. “Of course, who do you think I am?” He scoffed. “They’re alive, too. No harm, but I’d avoid the room until they open the door. You okay?” He held Jackson’s forearms, looking into his puppy brown eyes. 

“Pfft,  _ fine _ . Hyung can kiss who he wants anywhere he wants. I just thought one of you weren’t gonna survive. Or he’d consume the house into oblivion.” He jerked his head towards the living room. “They gonna be okay?” 

“I’m about to find out.” 

Jackson pat him and said, “Good luck, buddy,” before beginning his dreadful task of scraping wax off the floor.  _ Spicy  _ wax. 

Jinyoung snuck up on Bambam and hit the middle of his spine. The younger tried to sit up, consequently forgetting his head was still under the table. Maybe he had brain damage now. He swung out and glared at Jinyoung while rubbing the back of his head. “You couldn’t have said my name like a normal person?” 

“I’m a witch, not a person, so...No. But I need to talk to you two.” 

“Just us? What about Gyeomie?” 

“Dead in the water. He won’t listen right now with his ears full of seaweed.” 

Bambam pushed his hair back and sighed. Without another word, he followed Jinyoung to the couch. Youngjae was sitting stiff as a board, on the very edge with his hands folded and his back ramrod straight. Jinyoung was sure to disrupt his posture when he sat right next to him, and then he pulled Bambam to sit on his thigh, even after he tried to protest. Because Jinyoung knew it wouldn’t take long for him to settle. He saw right through him, how he said  _ ew  _ about everything ironically. It was his habit, not his opinion. 

Bambam laid his arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders and Jinyoung held him safe around the waist. Youngjae stared straight ahead. 

“We’re witches, not superheroes. I don’t have telepathy, but I’m still a damn good lie detector, and I need you to not lie to me,” he started. “Something ugly is coming for us, and you’ll probably be facing it with us. But, as empowering as personal feelings can be, they can also make you naive and reckless.” 

Bambam squirmed at the word  _ feelings _ . 

“You can’t save us the same way we save you. Even if you read our books, or learn medicinal remedies, or befriend magical plants, magic works with magic. A wound made from magic can only be healed with magic.” 

Youngjae pulled at his shirt seam, and Bambam glanced at him and Jinyoung with such a heavy worry that Jinyoung lowered his head down. “If either of you stay personally involved, or get involved, it’s probably not going to be pretty. We’re not a romance plot and we may not be able to heal you one day. You’ve had darkness in your minds, but the real darkness comes from the heart. Born from tragedy and loss and trauma, and made a hundred times worse when it crosses realm-bound abilities.” He sighed and Bambam soothed his hand over his shoulders. “Knowing this, and  _ not  _ knowing other variables and consequences, would you still get involved with us like that?” 

Jackson’s metal pots rang against each other in the silence, along with the sink’s rushing water and the hushed ticking of a timer. He had said too much, but their life was not easy. They weren’t the object of affection, normally, outside of themselves. Mark had fooled around a couple of times when he was fighting with Jackson long ago, but they were one night stands, nothing with an emotional attachment. It wasn’t like they had the time or freedom to actually  _ date _ . They had tried at one point and there were five hundred jobs with only two of them working to check them off. They had logged enough calls to know the usually empty time slots in case they did want to wander around in the market, holding hands and buying each other small gifts, but they were too jaded about the gentle stuff. 

Demons would find them. Restless spirits would cling to their aura. Dark witches would smell them from twenty miles away, and the soul of the king could possibly curse them to death right in the middle of town. 

Going on the lovey-dovey dates the younger three daydreamed about would not happen with witches. 

He expected Youngjae to speak up, having been the first to fall, but Bambam surprisingly broke the silence. “What’s the point in ignoring it if we might die anyway?” He started picking at Jinyoung’s shirt over his shoulder. “We do love, one of us dies, the other is heartbroken and tears the world apart. We don’t love, one of us dies, the other is heartbroken and tears the world apart anyway because the love was still there, even if it was never acted upon.” He subtly blinked at Youngjae. “The hurt is worse when you never confess. There’s never closure for that.” 

He actually sounded  _ smart _ . Either Bambam was really sympathetic, or he experienced something far worse than just the Fae trying to eat his mind. 

“I’m not sure what we have,” Youngjae’s voice shook and he rubbed his hands over his thighs, “but I can’t just forget it. I’d never feel at peace if I had to die without kissing him again. Or even holding his hand, or just being physically affectionate beyond friendship.” 

Jinyoung was glad to hear the truth, and they had a point. Maybe to them, the coven were just people with extraordinary abilities. There was no crossing of lines. Like Bambam had said, they’d tear the world apart just the same as a witch would. 

“Okay. But if something extreme happens…” 

“We can’t be reckless,” Bambam finished. 

“Yeah, that.” Jinyoung didn’t have anything else to add after digging that deep. 

Before Youngjae left, Jinyoung told him he would fix things with Yugyeom. They’d all get over this soon enough, or work through it in time. And then the boy went into the kitchen, Jackson taking pity and handing him some preparation work. 

Bambam linked his arms around Jinyoung’s shoulders again. “Is it  _ right  _ of us if we like you?” 

“It’s not our place to say right or wrong. Safe? Definitely not. Stupid? Probably. But right? That’s dependent on your comfort zones.” Jinyoung pointed to Bambam’s heart. He fidgeted again and Jinyoung took the bait. “What’s your other question?” 

He stuttered at first and looked at the floor. “Maybe we could get a new couch? The memory won’t go away.” 

Jinyoung broke into a smile and kept his lips glued together until he slipped Bambam off his leg and onto the cushion, and only after he pat his shoulder and walked away into the hall did he release his laugh. Because he wasn’t going to scar Bambam more by telling him how much sex had happened on that couch. Not yet, anyway. 

His laughter had died by the time he stood at Yugyeom’s closed door. He hid his happier mood, settling for neutral worry and gave a knock. 

“M’sleeping!” The youngest pouted from the other side. 

Jinyoung knocked again. “And I’m Pope Francy!” 

He groaned loudly and Jinyoung heard his feet patter to the door, and it swung open. “The Pope? Really?” 

“Yes, really.” 

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. “Then what can I do for you, Your Holiness? My most Holy Father.” He said it quite sarcastically, but Jinyoung felt satisfied somehow. 

“Is that what you call your lovers?” He only said it to throw Yugyeom off, which it did. He let go of the door in shock and Jinyoung snuck his way between Yugyeom and the doorjam. His expression was twisted and confused, like he was trying to solve astronomical math when he only knew that two plus two equals three. “You missed evening mass, so I’m doing a personal bedroom call,” Jinyoung huffed and took a seat on top of the short dresser along the window. 

Yugyeom closed the door and leaned against it, facing towards Jinyoung. “What prayer am I forced to recite today, Holy Daddy?” 

Jinyoung crossed his legs and examined his nails. He needed to cut them soon. “Actually, it’s more of an oath I need you to take.” 

Yugyeom moved slowly, closing half the distance between them. “Why? The Lord already knows I solemnly swear.” His footsteps made the boards creak, and he didn’t stop until he towered over Jinyoung, putting his hands on the window, caging him in and matching the level of his gazes. “And so do  _ you _ , and the rest of your friend stealing sinners.” 

“You’re really so jealous that you’d invoke the wrath of a witch who puts those  _ sinners _ above all else?” 

“It’s not jealousy.” Yugyeom was brave and didn’t flinch one centimeter. Their noses were almost touching and he hushed his voice. “It wasn’t just hyung, was it? Jaebum did something. You said he was  _ powerful _ .” His eyes narrowed. “So what the  _ hell  _ happened on that couch?” 

Jinyoung went back to his nails. He actually could wait to cut them; he remembered the pleasing sound they made against his phone screen and how they often left marks on fragile skin. “First, you’re going to back the fuck off or I will strangle you,” he stated it casually, calmly, like he was ordering at a drive-through window. “And two, do not drop honorifics with anyone in this coven. You’ve done it before and it was admissible, but you have zero grounds this time.” 

“Just tell me what happened.” He still refused to budge, and only rolled his neck to work out a kink. 

Jinyoung uncrossed his legs and tapped his nails against Yugyeom’s neck. “I said  _ move _ , and speak with respect.” Jinyoung felt him nervously swallow. Finally, he was getting somewhere. 

“I saw it, the confusion on his face, like he hadn’t ever meant to kiss him. What else could it be?” His face only moved a centimeter away, but his tone calmed significantly. 

Jinyoung still held his warning. “The same confusion you had when you saw it. Jaebum hyung doesn’t fuck with mental or emotional manipulation. Youngjae initiated it.  _ Voluntarily _ .” He tapped each syllable of the word with his nail against Yugyeom’s skin. “If he was under someone else’s spell, we would know by now.” 

“Would you, though?” 

Jinyoung danced his fingers around Yugyeom’s neck and when he stood up, he gripped his face with one hand, digging marks into his jaw. “We’ve come all this way, trusting you with our histories, and giving you our personal phone numbers and living space to keep your asses safe, and  _ you  _ are doubting  _ me _ ?” He walked him into the wall. “If you’re going to call us one day and stab us the next, you don’t belong here. But your other friends?” Jinyoung leaned onto his toes. “They’re in this, for better or worse. So it’s your move. You can feel your jealousy and have your crushes, but don’t ever think we manipulate that.” He harshly let him go, the force making Yugyeom’s face turn to the side. 

Jinyoung paced back to the dresser and crossed his legs as he had been before. 

The clock near the door ticked, and Yugyeom’s phone alerted him of a couple messages, but he didn’t bother to look. He hadn’t even fixed his stance yet, frozen in his thoughts. When he finally turned his head to stare out the window beside Jinyoung’s head, his eyes were glazed over. “You really don’t have that kind of power?” He asked without emotion. 

Jinyoung shook his head. “We don’t. Seunie is the only one close to it, but the level you’re thinking of? Only the witches we hunt would have the twisted morals to achieve that.” 

He propped his foot up against the wall and softly rocked forwards and back. “What did you talk about? With them.” 

“Us and them and the complexity of loving between the lines. It’s just been the four of us for...a  _ long  _ time. We share everything, including feelings. If something happens to one of us, we only have a witch or demon to blame, and maybe our own skills. But once we love any of you the same way, it’s a whole mess. Two realms, multiple circumstances and reasons tragedy could happen, and no sure way to heal except to burn both sides down.” Jinyoung glanced up at the ceiling. “They promised that no matter the risks or consequences, they’d be honest about how they feel, and not do anything reckless if something terrible and irreversible happened.”

“Because magic wins against humans and only magic can heal magic wounds. The natural way of things.” Yugyeom waved his hand in the air and kicked off the wall, propelling him to step forward until he leaned next to the dresser. “The heart knows what it wants, even if it goes against the way of things.” 

“I know it hurts right now, but Youngjae might like you one day, too. Everyone is allowed to like who they want, and who cares if there’s more than one? All relationships are built from trust. That’s really what matters; if you trust yourself, if you trust Youngjae, and if you trust Jaebum hyung.” Jinyoung relaxed his legs. “If you only liked Youngjae, I really am sorry, but it’s also too soon to push him aside completely. We’re from the stone age and I still get surprised by life.” 

Yugyeom sighed and scuffed his toes against the floor. “I’m not sure if I have anything to confess, but…” He leaned his head back on the window and let it lull to the side, eyes on Jinyoung’s. “You trusted me first, with the truth and this house and the library. And I originally trusted you with my life, and the life of my best friends. There shouldn’t be reason to doubt we’d do anything to help each other live another day.” He paused. “And Jaebum hyung has the three of you. It was stupid to think he’d force someone else to love him.” 

“Yeah, it was. Mostly because you didn’t actually think before making accusations.” 

Yugyeom looked like he was forming an argument against it, but he closed his mouth and stared at the wall. “So, can I still take that oath? Or am I beyond redemption?” 

“We’ll see. I have to confer with the Lord first.” 

“I really am sorry. I deserved your nails in my face.” 

“Glad we agree.” Jinyoung left the silence alone, pretending whispers and little arguments and Yugyeom quirked an eyebrow. “The Lord says you’re redeemed, but no one gets to heal the cute little scratches I left on your face.” Honestly, he just admired how they looked on him, and it was a reminder not to cross him without good reason. Without evidence. 

“I’ll take that. Thank you, Holy Daddy. I feel renewed.” 

Jinyoung blinked, and then suddenly laughed and he fell towards Yugyeom, and Yugyeom smiled, laying his head on Jinyoung’s. In their own unethical way, they were okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all felt that. felt what, you may ask? well friends, i leave that for you to define. 
> 
> come for me on [my cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor) or [my twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor)


	8. Scene VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really do mean that ot7 tag

If Bambam had to write one day down as being the worst so far, he’d choose this day. Demons? Okay, he was finally adapting. Ghosts trying to destroy his best friends at school? Yeah, it sucked, but they had a defense line. He could even handle thinking about the soul ripping their bodies apart and frying their limbs for dinner without having nightly terror fits. He had learned to just stop being surprised and expect the absolute worst, so if something slightly better than that happened, he’d contently survive it. 

But, he didn’t have the energy to walk five thousand miles off this property in the middle of nowhere to get to the bus stop, and ride it up the street a few stops to get to the store to buy a new bottle of conditioner. Mark said he was free to use whatever was in the bathroom. They were even starting to share clothes at this point, so why not hair care as well? He was fine with it because Mark was fine with it. 

But when he stepped out and looked in the mirror, he was completely  _ not  _ fine with it. There were five different types of bottles and he chose the white one with a blue cap because the fragrance was most like his style, but that was obviously a tragic mistake. His newly perfected pink hair, that he studied for  _ hours  _ through reviews and dye-mixing videos to get his desired shade, was ruined by a single fucking shower. Because he used a  _ spelled  _ conditioner. 

His hair was  _ black _ . 

He spent all that time and effort carefully bleaching the red out of his hair until it was something he could work with and dye over. His cotton candy hair was stolen and exchanged for a crow. To make it worse, he had chosen to bring his black boxers and Mark’s oversized red hoodie in with him to change into. So now, he had to the great task of being mad at Mark while wearing Mark’s clothes. 

He huffed his way out of the humid bathroom and into the cool living room. Mark was on the ground on all fours having a growling contest with Nora, and her flaming fur licked higher and her tail poofed, releasing embers into the air. Bambam liked to think they had bonded when she burned him for pets after he moved in, so he went to the cupboard where he knew her special treats were. He didn’t know what they were made of or really what the effects were, but Jackson put them together and they hadn’t really been touched since. 

He didn’t care what would happen. He took one from the sealed bag and noticed it was even fish-shaped. Quietly, he snuck into the living room and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Nora snapped her translucent blue eyes to him, immediately taking notice of the treat. 

“Bambam, do  _ not  _ give that to her.” Mark warned. 

And the second he lurched towards him, Bambam slid the treat across the floor to her. “Burn his nose off, Nora.” He heard Mark yell and scramble around the floor, but he didn’t bother to stick around and watch whatever disaster he just created. His hair was ruined because Mark hadn’t warned him about the magical color conditioner that didn’t even bleed out or fade when he rinsed with lava water. 

 

He pulled the hood over his head and let the sleeves dangle over his hands, and mourned his loss in the grim isolation of the master bedroom. He curled up in the far corner of the mattress, furthest from the doorway and tried to sleep. He smelled smoke and heard Mark screaming spells with all his breath, and Nora doing what she could to roar within her size bracket. Bambam probably overreacted, likely destroying the entire living room with that single treat, but his hair had been the one nice thing he completed without magic interfering. And that hard work was taken away by magic. Again. 

He wouldn’t ever forget witnessing the Sunsift, or the way the star seeds that came from it illuminated and tickled his hands; magic was not inherently bad, but it didn’t change how often bad magic ruined his day. Maybe he was just cursed to have more bad things happen to him than good. 

He couldn’t sleep anyway--with his thoughts and the noise--so he laid there and scrolled through his phone. He saw a stupid advertisement email from a shop he stopped going to when the employees thought he was helping Yugyeom steal. Which, he was not stealing and Bambam was not a distraction. They had just gone after school and Yugyeom often walked around and around debating which accessories he could afford to buy, and Bambam liked asking product and coupon questions. They reported the accusations, but he didn’t feel like ever going back and he was too lazy to hit the unsubscribe link at the end of the promotion email. 

Hakyeon had texted about needing to talk with him. Bambam figured it was going to be about his loyalty to the film club, and he’d be desperate to know what drama he’s trying to survive this time. He left the notification unread and tried to distract himself with a matching game. Gradually, the sounds from the living room quieted down, and when his battery was in the red, two hours had passed. And a minute later, Jinyoung came in and sat on the bed beside him. 

“Guess Mark hyung had a time.” 

“Mm,” he ignored the low battery alert again. 

“Guess Nora found a treat and tried to eat his face?” 

“Really?” He asked, deadpanning Jinyoung’s question with his own. 

“You’re lucky he has decent cleaning magic.” When Bambam didn’t say anything, Jinyoung sighed and slowly stole his phone, locking it and setting it by the pillow. 

Bambam folded the sleeves over his hands again, since he didn’t need his fingers for anything. 

Jinyoung laid further down on the bed and tried to peer under his red hood. “What happened, Bam-ah?” 

“Didn’t hyung tell you that, too?” He scoffed and went right back to sulking. He just wanted to be left alone to mourn and sleep away his grief. But Jinyoung was relentless, tugging playfully on the hoodie’s strings to try and get something out of him, pouting his lips and whining behind them. Bambam hated that it worked. He shot up and ripped the hood off, and bore a hole through Jinyoung’s eyes. “Fine, see?! It’s not pink!” He flopped back down dramatically, arms falling away from his sides. He accidentally hit Jinyoung’s thigh, but at this point, he didn’t care to move it or apologize. 

“He forgot to warn you about Jaebum hyung’s conditioner.” 

“Or he wanted to ruin me!” 

Jinyoung hit the middle of his chest. “If he was trying to ruin you, you’d know. Trust me.” 

Bambam had no desire to know what it would look like if Mark was ruining him. “How am I supposed to live like this?” 

Jinyoung held his hand and teased their fingers together to try and comfort him. “You’ve never looked bad, Bam-ah. You’re upset, and I get it, but you don’t look horrible.” He turned to half lay on Bambam and threaded his other hand through his pitch black hair fanned out along the blanket. “You could probably even style it like Jaebum hyung does.” 

Bambam’s mind spun until he had a complete identity crisis. He did admire Jaebum’s style a lot, and owed him for things he could never pay back as long as he was human, but it was more the loss of his efforts that made him want to reverse it. Even his opinion on reversing it wavered with Jinyoung’s attention swallowing him whole. 

Jinyoung’s full weight was on him now, one leg caught between his and both hands pulling at his hair. He leaned down and whispered against his ear. “And wear those silver contacts you like so much.” He let his hands slide down Bambam’s body as he sat up, straddling Bambam’s thighs with the rawest seductive, knowing smirk Bambam had ever been attacked with. “Though, if you really want your efforts back, I’m sure Seunie has something.” 

Bambam stressfully swallowed and desperately hoped Jinyoung couldn’t see his face simultaneously paling and heating up. He’s sure Jackson would throw something together for him, but the risk would likely include having all of his hair burned off. Magic bleach was to be trusted even less than magic conditioner. And when Jinyoung was looking at him like a starved man at a buffet, he cared a little less about his hair. 

He could live with the black for now. He’d deal with it somehow, and at the very least, it matched their hodgepodge of a wardrobe. “No, I’m fine,” he reverted back to puberty, his voice nervously changing pitch without warning. He cleared his throat when Jinyoung pulled at the red cuffs. “I’ll keep it. For now.” 

“You’re cute--when you’re flustered. Did you know that?” 

Bambam let out a single chuckle, but it came out as a whining breath. He tried to escape the sleeves, but the angle was awkward and he used his elbows to shift further towards the headboard.

Jinyoung shifted with him. He held both cuffs in one hand and trailed the other along his side, under the hoodie. Their lips were suddenly a breath apart and Bambam felt himself losing his grip on reality, wondering if this was okay, if Jinyoung had said something to them before because he knew it wasn’t just Youngjae with a physical interest in them. And Bambam’s weakness was taking an interest in those who wanted to eat him alive. 

“I can help you forget for a little while. Take away the frustration of feeling ruined,” he whispered.

Bambam’s heart drummed loud and fast. He’d keep the hair, keep the hoodie on, stay still--whatever it took for Jinyoung to unravel him. “You can just ruin me more.” 

Jinyoung hummed when he grinned. And when he kissed him, Bambam’s fate here was sealed, and it didn’t matter if he came out of it alive, because it was one of the best damn moments of attention he’d had since they first met the coven. If Jinyoung asked to use magic on him, he’d probably say yes just so their affair wouldn’t end; just so Jinyoung could take care of him at the end of it all. 

 

*

 

Youngjae never remembered having this much bad luck. Maybe it was situational, only happening after they met a darkness connected to something far more deadly, or because they still entered abandoned and condemned properties. There was a place not far off the coven’s estate that Yugyeom had caught wind of; thought he could write a paper on it, but was too worried if he went alone. Youngjae was the most convenient volunteer, and he need some fresh air, away from the house and away from campus and away from Nora. 

Away from the others in case they hated him for kissing their leader. He wasn’t stupid. He could see how Jaebum and Jinyoung looked at each other, and it wasn’t one of pure friendship. The older witch had been honest when he said they had come to share feelings during their lifetime together. And Youngjae was an interruption, something interfering with the way they shared their bodies and affections, and how he ruined locations within the house that used to be coven-only intimacy. 

He expected Yugyeom to still hate him--punch him in the face like some never-ending romance drama, but he didn’t do any of it. His conversations didn’t hold any malice, and at one point, he had confidently tangled their fingers together, and Youngjae didn’t pull away. All he said was, “I  _ like  _ you, and I’m not disappointed you don’t like me. I just want you happy, hyung. Always.” 

Youngjae’s thing with Jaebum was more intense than everything he’d experienced so far. Almost like it was written into his soul to need him, even if he wasn’t quite a soulmate. It just happened and he couldn’t stop it and never wanted it to stop. But, he never meant to hurt his friends. Truthfully, Youngjae cared for his friends more than what it normally called for, especially after becoming apart of a war that wasn’t their own. He couldn’t bear to see them on the verge of death again. However, he had a feeling it was bound to happen again. 

So he held Yugyeom’s hand tighter and smiled bright to ease whatever resentment, if any, he had left. “I want us all happy. Our life might end up even shorter, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Yugyeom sighed.

And they had walked in silence to the condemned property. Nothing attacked them there, except some ugly spider webs and twigs that snapped under their footsteps, making Yugyeom scream and his heart exploded every five minutes. Youngjae stood with him as he collected photos as evidence for his assignment. 

Once they exited through the chain-link fence, the rain poured, from nowhere. Youngjae hadn’t seen any grey clouds before they had entered. If they ran, it wouldn’t take long to get back home, but at the intersection, there had been an accident and traffic was being manually conducted. They waited ten minutes before the worker waved them across, and once they were on the last road to the treeline, a giant stray dog ran towards them, barking loud and insistent. 

Yugyeom tried to appease it and make a good old Lassie joke, but the dog didn’t stop. Youngjae stepped back from it, only used to smaller, quieter dogs that couldn’t swallow half his arm. It jumped onto its hind legs thinking it could attach its claws into Yugyeom’s shirt, but he grabbed Youngjae’s hand again, and dodged the dog--falling into the road just off the sidewalk. A car swerved and honked, but they quickly ran back onto the sidewalk, hearing someone calling the dog from the other direction. 

Maybe it had been lost and heard the owner whistling from incredibly far away and thought it had known where the sound was coming from, but Youngjae hadn’t met a worse dog. And then finally, when they had reached the treeline, Yugyeom slipped in the mud and when he fell down, Youngjae fell down. They were wet, tired, muddy, and Youngjae contemplated praying in case it brought him better fortune for tomorrow. Or asking the witches if they had any remedies to avoid terrible luck. 

They walked through the door of the house, and Youngjae realized they weren’t the only ones who had a bad day. The couch had been sewn together with a shining thread, tables patched with a glue that seemed half like paper mache and half like snotty magma. Some of the floorboards were missing, but when they experimented stepping on it, they didn’t fall through and it was as solid as the rest of the floor. 

And then they saw Mark coming out of the kitchen, sweating and looking like he was holding in a scream. There was ash all over his face and parts of his clothes were burnt through. But when he eyed them, head to toe, he had the same sympathy Youngjae hoped he had been showing. 

“Don’t ask?” They said in unison, and all three nodded. 

“Yup, okay, great. You’re both shivering and I’m taking a shower anyway,” Mark quickly amended.  

He gestured for them to follow, and they did their best to leave the mud at the door by taking off their shoes and making sure their pants wouldn’t drag. Mark handed them a plastic garbage bag for their clothes, started the water so it would be warm, and then he got clean outfits and towels. He added his own dirty clothes to the bag and they all stepped into the tub. 

Standing, it fit the three of them just fine. Mark pointedly told them to avoid the white bottle with the blue cap when they reached for shampoos and conditioners. It was nice, having the others to wash his hair and make sure nothing stuck to him. And surprisingly, Mark’s hair-washing was even better than a professional salon massage, making Youngjae’s eyes close and his spine tingle; his own fingers slowed while washing Yugyeom’s hair to perfection. He had accidentally moaned and tripped forward into the taller, steadying a hand on Yugyeom’s waist for support and Mark held onto his hips so he didn’t accidentally slip and break all their necks. 

It was gross leaving shampoo in for too long, though, so they switched places so Mark could get all the ash out of his hair. They teased him, childishly twisting his hair up in spikes or disappointing pigtails. He laughed with them and they rinsed off, and Youngjae felt like a brand new person when he stepped out into the trapped, humid air. 

He also didn’t forget Mark’s fingers against his scalp, or Yugyeom’s back muscles shifting when he collided into him. Maybe he wasn’t going to love either of them, but did intimacy need to include more than love? Or love at all? As long as he cared for them in some way, and as long as their last days could be any day, it was okay to just want them. 

Yugyeom had barely let go of his towel when Youngjae pushed him against the wall and leaned up to kiss him. There weren’t any sparks, but there was an immediate fire in his gut, sliding his hands over Yugyeom’s shoulder blades, feeling how tense he was before he breathed against Youngjae’s lips and relaxed. Youngjae paused to call Mark over, begging him to pull his hair and kiss him as harshly as he wanted to. To help him make a mess of Yugyeom and show him just how cared for he was. 

Mark pulled them both away from the wall, and him and Youngjae stood behind Yugyeom, leaving him to face his reflection in the mirrors. 

Youngjae brushed his hand over Yugyeom’s dick, giggling at how it twitched, how he was gasping already and they had barely done anything to him. “You’re so pretty, Gyeommie. Can you see it?” 

Mark had one hand threaded into Yugyeom’s hair, keeping his head up so he couldn’t avoid the mirror’s gaze. His other hand teased his soft stomach and over his nipples. “You want to be a good boy for us, right Gyeom-ah? Show you how pretty you can be?” He kissed his shoulder. “You wanna see that?” 

Yugyeom’s hands gripped at them both, wherever he could reach. “Please,” he whined. “Please, just  _ anything _ .” 

“Okay, baby,” Mark stopped his teasing and brought Yugyeom’s hand up to kiss. “We’ll take care of you. Get rid of  _ all  _ that stress.” 

Youngjae couldn’t wait to get him into the bed and edge him until he cried. 

At least this would make up for their day of terrible luck.

 

*

 

Out of all the things Jaebum expected to come home to, he did not have  _ silence  _ on that list. It was the one thing he was hoping to avoid. He could always handle a banshee, but the client had failed to warn them they had unearthed a  _ mute  _ banshee. No witches, humans, demons, or otherwise ever returned from a fight with a mute banshee. The garden had been entirely too silent, having to painfully hold their breaths as to not make a sound against it. Rose stems had twisted around him, thorns thick and burning into his skin, while the bud of it was charcoaled. Jackson, luckily, escaped his own wailing vines and enchanted the rose bush for his own use, effectively trapping the mute banshee to weep inside of it, and it alone, forever. There was no way to free the banshee, and no way for it to escape. 

The garden was safe, while the rosebush was never to be touched again. And Jaebum wouldn’t trust silence from now on. 

The living room wasn’t in great condition, either. 

“The hell happened  _ here _ ?” Jackson eyed the space. 

He grabbed the nearest candle, lighting it without even blinking. “Nothing good.” He walked ahead and motioned for Jackson to follow quietly. There was nothing down the left hall, or in the kitchen. Their secret entrances to the library and the upstairs hadn’t been touched once today, but the bathroom still had a humid warmth. 

And then he heard it. 

_ Felt  _ it. Somewhere in his soul, making his heart race and ache to touch the ones he cherished. He rolled his shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief knowing his coven was safe. He followed the building tension and heightened moans until they reached the bedroom, door slightly cracked open. He glanced at Jackson who was nearly  _ growling  _ to get to Mark, and led them inside. 

Jackson had stripped on his way over to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes, and Jaebum blew out the candle, placing it next to a few other unlit candles on the dresser. “I didn’t trust the silence,” he said teasingly, “and then I find all of you  _ here _ .” 

“ _ Hyung _ …” Jinyoung whined. 

He turned at the plead and stalked closer to the mattress, feeling a pull to only watch how Youngjae and Bambam made Jinyoung gasp and claw at the headboard and sheets. He stared back with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks. He was being waited on, reminding Jaebum of a different time, when the younger would have been wearing lush robes and shirts which commanded attention, woven with thread only the royal seamsters could spin. But this scene was far richer than that memory. 

Bambam was doing his best to mark Jinyoung, kissing his lips and down his jaw, over his neck, but he keened and moaned whenever Jinyoung’s nails dug into his back. Because Youngjae had obviously figured out exactly how to tease Jinyoung’s cock, stroking his length softly with his fingers while sucking and licking the tip. Not enough to build an orgasm, but Jaebum knew it was enough to drive Jinyoung  _ crazy  _ until he begged for one. 

Mark and Jackson were tearing Yugyeom apart beside them, just with some sweet talk and feather-light touches, and hair pulling. It promised a long night and Jaebum was kind of worried Yugyeom wouldn’t actually survive it. Not with the way his breath hitched and how he was already begging to try and come untouched. If there was anything Jaebum would guarantee with his life, it was that Mark and Jackson always had a great time, and even greater stamina. If Yugyeom was lucky, they’d only make him come three times. At the very least. 

At some point while he watched, Bambam had crawled away from Jinyoung and kneeled at the end of the mattress, hands desperately reaching for him. He was adorable and beautiful at the same time, and Jaebum was torn on treating him as if he was fragile, or completely fucking him into the mattress until there wasn’t a mattress anymore. So he began in the middle. He let Bambam help him out of his shirt, and then he traced his fingers over the younger’s collar bones, moving up to gently wrap around his neck. 

He pulled him forward, Bambam’s lips soft and tentative against his. It took a hand on his hip and a slightly tighter hold on his neck for him to realize it was okay to kiss back just as hard as Jaebum wanted. Awkwardly, he finally crawled up onto the bed as Bambam tried to move further away to create the space for him. There was nothing smooth about their movements, riling Jaebum to only kiss him harder, to not waste a single breath, and keep Bambam trapped under him. 

He tugged on Bambam’s hair and paused to really look at him—cheeks quite red, highlighted by his now black hair. “You used my conditioner?” He was more amused than puzzled.

“On accident,” he said through a gasp.

Jaebum hummed, not quite believing him. “Looks good,” he whispered against Bambam’s ear. And when the younger bucked up and whimpered, high pitched and needy, it was all over from there. Jaebum maneuvered out of his pants and hovered above Bambam, relishing how his eyes wandered away from Jaebum’s direct gaze, because it meant he could demand the attention  _ back _ . He settled his weight over Bambam’s hips and grabbed his chin, leaning in low and close. “I thought you enjoyed watching me.”

Bambam directly met his gaze, and squirmed when he clearly couldn’t handle the eye contact anymore. “From a distance, where my life is safer.” 

“You almost died keeping your life distant,” he reminded.

“Yeah, but you’d be happier if I, or any of us, died by your hand, right?” Bambam flushed more and bravely looked at Jaebum again. “You’d be satisfied,” he whispered, laying his hand over Jaebum’s, where it still rested on his throat. 

“Not you. Yugyeomie, maybe.” He felt Bambam relax a little more, still breathing high and silently pleading for Jaebum to do something. But it was too entertaining to tease the younger. So he moved to lightly nibble his ear, and whispered, “With you, I’d be  _ ecstatic _ .” 

Bambam clung to Jaebum’s shoulders, airily moaning for him to just kill him. Maybe he thought ending it was better than Jaebum’s words against his ears and hands over his skin, but Jaebum showed him it wasn’t. He rolled his hips, their cocks grinding together, and Jaebum switched between slightly choking him, and kissing him breathless. Bambam couldn’t find a secure hold, Jaebum biting his lips anytime his nails tried to dig into his shoulders. He eventually just kept one hand loosely wrapped around Jaebum’s wrist, and the other reaching up to dig into a pillow. It didn’t take long at all for Bambam to fully fall apart under him, even watching as Jaebum stroked him at a painfully slow pace, but with a strong enough grasp, making Bambam’s chest heave until his muscles tensed and he came all over his stomach. 

Jaebum smirked and hummed, nuzzling his cheek against Bambam’s heated face in a moment of proud fondness, not really wanting to praise with words because he was better with actions. He ran his fingers through Bambam’s hair a couple times, getting the mess off his forehead, and he thought he heard Bambam whisper some kind of small thank you. He was probably seeing the other side, or watching his entire life flash before his eyes now, so Jaebum left him to drift. Yugyeom was already crawling over, body sluggish and eyes heavy, curling around his best friend. 

And then Jaebum saw Youngjae, on his knees with his hands gripping the headboard, and Mark and Jinyoung were fingering him open while Jackson watched. Youngjae laid his cheek against his hands, seeing Jaebum’s fixed gaze. And he swore Youngjae’s eyes glazed over and that he was purposely acting more desperate, lips parting in a way that made Jaebum’s chest ache. It was a mere fraction of the possessiveness he held for his coven, but it was still there and digging deeper and deeper. He wanted to be the cause of his desperation. Wanted to bite those lips and color his jaw and neck with butterfly kisses, with every phrase of praise that rolled off his tongue. 

Youngjae barely reached out before Jaebum was already moving closer, but he still asked for it. “Please, hyung,” he said breathlessly. “ _ Please _ .” 

Jaebum growled, attacking Jinyoung’s lips first without much warning, whispering for him and Mark to tend to Jackson. He wanted to handle Youngjae. Jinyoung responded with a quiet, “okay, hyung,” and kissed him messy and hard before doing what he was told. 

Youngjae went to turn around, but Jaebum wanted him just as he was. “Stay,” he softly demanded. “Just like that.” 

Youngjae licked his lips and nodded. “Am I pretty like this?” 

“Perfect.” Jaebum carefully slid his hands over Youngjae’s waist, massaging a bit before reaching around to touch his cute, smooth tummy. If he had Youngjae face him, he would have ended up biting the soft flesh. So he hugged Youngjae until his chest touched the younger’s back, and he nipped at his neck and ears, trailing a hand up to lightly pull at his hair. 

He bent completely to Jaebum’s will, falling into every touch, even reaching back to try and hold Jaebum closer by his hips. Jaebum teased his nipples, and Youngjae pulled his hands away to grasp the headboard again. His knuckles paled and he attempted to curl forward when Jaebum stroked the head of his cock, but Jaebum gripped his hair tighter. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted  _ me _ , and here I am. But you don’t seem appreciative.” 

Youngjae’s voice trembled when he moaned. “I am. I do,  _ please _ .” 

Jaebum wanted to make him say what he was pleading for, but his hips rolled of their own accord, his dick sliding in the cleft of Youngjae’s ass, and he was too on edge to draw it out anymore. He lubed his fingers up and stretched Youngjae just a little more, even though he said he was fine. But when he said it, he ended with a quiet, “ _ Jaebummie _ ,” instead of  _ hyung _ . The casual disrespect ripped through his veins, echoing a tone he hadn’t thought about in ages. A part of him wanted to let it go, because his mind wasn’t focused on politeness, but the other part of Jaebum knew if anyone else caught it, he’d hear about it for not reacting normally. 

He held Youngjae tight around the waist, keeping his fingers in his hair, sliding in none too slow or gentle. Youngjae whined and breathed heavily, but didn’t complain or ask for him to stop before he was buried inside. But Jaebum already felt ruined and close, needing a moment and he rested his forehead on the small of Youngjae’s back. He clung to Jaebum’s hand around his waist, which somehow made everything worse, but it finally got him to move. He pressed his lips to every part of Youngjae he could comfortably reach while slowly fucking into him. He let go of Youngjae’s hair, and everytime Jaebum snapped his hips a little harder, a little deeper, Youngjae fell more and more until he held his weight on the bed with his arms, head buried in the blankets. 

It was absolutely adorable the way he keened, and Jaebum couldn’t help but drag his nails down his spine. The younger’s hips rolled back and he moaned for more. The skin easily turned pink and red, and Jaebum momentarily wondered what it might look like with longer lasting marks. 

Youngjae lifted himself just enough to speak. “Hyung, please...I wanna see you….ride you, hyung,  _ please _ .” 

“Fuck,” Jaebum said under his breath. He carefully pulled out, sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard. Youngjae didn’t look as flustered as he sounded, except his eyes seemed entirely unfocused and his muscles weren’t cooperating well. Jaebum helped him in the right direction until he swung over his lap, and Jaebum felt his cock slide right back in. Youngjae wavered, a bit dizzy from the rush and he used Jaebum’s chest to keep himself stable. 

Jaebum encouraged his movements, staring intently until Youngjae dropped his gaze and faintly blushed. He noticed Bambam and Yugyeom were near dead to the world around them, and Jinyoung was close to spent and exhausted, but still helped Mark with unravelling Jackson. Jaebum could feel it all building up, and it was like Jackson was internally on fire, hanging on by the last fraying thread. And Youngjae didn’t care how his hips moved, and it was just as intense for Jaebum. 

Youngjae kissed the corner of his lips, lightly tracing to his jaw. He moved his free hand through the pile of messy sheets and blankets and abandoned pillows, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for quick enough, he whimpered Jinyoung’s name. 

Jaebum dared a fond smile, because he also often reached for Jinyoung’s hand when something was too much to handle. Jinyoung didn’t fully part with Jackson, but he took Youngjae’s hand and pressed his knuckles to his lips. Jaebum stroked his cock in tandem with his hips, watching Youngjae’s eyes flutter and his lips part, his moans a bit louder and a bit breathier. His bangs fell into a perfect mess around his eyes, tickling the mole under his eye, and Jaebum’s breath hitched. 

He was gorgeous like this, and Jaebum lowly growled so he wouldn’t lose control of his magic by accident. 

He was tipping over the edge, and he wanted Youngjae to be there with him. “It’s okay. Go ahead,” he whispered, and Youngjae did his best to keep eye contact. “Come for me.” 

Youngjae’s nails bit into his chest, and he snapped his hips harder, Jaebum stroking him through his orgasm until his thighs slightly trembled and his chest was pounding. He was ready to help Youngjae off, but he wouldn’t allow it, mumbling and slurring for Jaebum to come inside him. He was unsteady and held himself up now with an arm around Jaebum’s neck, but it was enough warmth and pressure, and when Youngjae leaned their foreheads together, Jaebum grabbed the back of his neck possessively, fucking up into him as best he could until he allowed himself to let go. 

It was unbearably hot and bright, and something in the aftermath made him want to simultaneously curl into himself in an isolated corner, and hold onto Youngjae and never let go. When he opened his eyes, there was a golden, flickering light somewhere in front of him. Jaebum ran his hand through Youngjae’s hair, an attempt to get his bangs out of his eyes, and he blinked softly, folding easily into Jaebum’s lap, and asking him to wake him up when it was time to shower. 

When he huddled into Jaebum’s chest, he finally saw the source of the flickering was the candles on the dresser. He was sure he blew them out to avoid a disaster, but the flames were licking dangerously close to the ceiling, expelling more heat than they should be. Jaebum evened his heartbeat and his breathing, and on the second exhale, the flames lowered. He glanced over to prove the likely culprit’s guilt. And there Jackson was, after a clearly intense orgasm, being rocked into a calmer state by Jinyoung, and Mark was wiping down his slightly tear-stained face and making him take slow drinks of water. 

Whatever they did to him was too much when there were fragile beings around, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up. Mark looked at him and shook his head. He’d figure it all out tomorrow in an emergency coven meeting, but right now, he wanted to get the drying cum and sweat off. He stirred Youngjae into shaky consciousness to get him to crawl to the edge of the bed and wait so Jaebum could wake up the two inseparable corpses.  

“C’mon kids. Showers before proper sleep.” 

Bambam woke up easily enough, but it took twisting Yugyeom’s nipple to even get a response that he was breathing. All three stumbled after him into the bathroom, helping each other quickly wash and rinse off. When Jaebum led them back to the bedroom, the three younger ones holding hands, the rest of the coven were up and waiting, and Mark had obviously used magic to change the bed linen. Jinyoung let Jackson lean on him as they walked out, and Mark stopped by Jaebum to whisper, “It wasn’t him.” 

Jaebum was exhausted and ready for a ten-year long beauty nap. “In the morning, Mark.” 

Mark gently pat his shoulder and disappeared into the hall. 

Jaebum dug out pajamas for everyone, folding three extra sets and setting them outside the bathroom door. He tucked the three in bed, with the two youngest on the outer edge because Youngjae asked Jaebum to sleep beside him on the inside. And as long as Jinyoung slept on his other side, Jaebum didn’t have a problem with it. He then finally blew out the candles, and as a precaution, carried them to the kitchen and placed them on the dining table. 

He crawled onto the bed from the unoccupied side, laying on his back next to Youngjae. Soon after, Jinyoung settled next to him. They looked at each other in the dark, but Jaebum knew exactly what Jinyoung’s eyes were saying. He wanted to make sure everyone was okay, and that Jaebum wasn’t angry enough to lose sleep over whatever happened. 

He reached over to caress Jinyoung’s cheek. He felt him relax deeply into the mattress, and he curled closer to Jaebum, forehead touching his forearm. And with Youngjae breathing softly on the other side, Jaebum gave himself up to a mostly dreamless sleep. 

 

*

 

Youngjae had been drifting in and out of reality for awhile now. He would have liked to know for how long, or at least wanted to know if it was a decent hour to get out of bed and stretch, grab a drink of water and sleep some more. Or play a game on the couch. But there were no clocks in the room, and he had no idea where he last set his phone. So he stared at the ceiling, watching the light become a dusty purple. 

He guessed the morning would be overcast. 

He couldn’t get back to sleep. His two friends slept oddly silent behind him. He was used to breathing or an accidental snore, or a kick in the night from some bad dream they had. There wasn’t any of it. 

Youngjae quietly sighed to himself and rolled to his side to face Jaebum. The witch had moved closer to Jinyoung, but didn’t attach himself, and Jinyoung hadn’t locked him in, either. Jaebum had more worry lines drawn into his face as he slept, but he still looked younger, like he’d carry the entire galaxy if he was asked to, without complaint. His jawline was softer, his body a little less stiff. 

Youngjae counted the times he saw the witch’s chest rise and fall, slightly panicking on his behalf whenever it stuttered or took too long to inflate again. He almost made a sound and covered his mouth with the blanket when Jaebum suddenly switched positions, turning on his side towards Youngjae. But his eyes didn’t even flinch, and he gave no other sign of even being half awake. His cheek squished against the pillow and Youngjae swallowed the giggle threatening to escape. 

He lightly pressed his fingertip between Jaebum’s eyebrows. Some of his tension lines smoothed out, and Youngjae thought that if he had been born a witch, or had magical powers that maybe it would lead to healing magic. His parents always found strength from his smile even if they were having a hard time, and his younger friends sought him for company whenever they fought or went through something difficult. And here Jaebum was, relaxing at the touch of his fingertip. 

The older mumbled something and shifted closer, hooking a leg over Youngjae’s, his hand resting comfortably on his back. Youngjae carefully unfolded one of his arms from between their chests and let it fall over Jaebum’s waist. He teased Jaebum’s bangs with his other hand, and when he pushed them back, it revealed a pair of moles just above Jaebum’s left eye. 

It wasn’t really the first time he had seen them. It was the kind of feature that stood out, no matter how much concealer was put over it. But he never wanted to attach a meaning to them, like Jaebum had with his mole. They weren’t anything more than birthmarks, but from mere inches away, the two marks were darker, giving warning to keep a certain distance. 

But it wasn’t distance Youngjae was looking for. Not with Jaebum, and not with how he felt there was something missing even though he was laying right here. 

So, Youngjae used the tips of his nails to touch Jaebum’s beauty mark. He expected something to spark, or maybe for his fingers to fall off. Perhaps he hoped there’d be a clue as to why he found himself so infatuated with the witch. But the room stayed calm, and his heart threatened to beat a little louder than the soft snoring around him. 

He couldn’t help himself, poking them once more to try and feel the magic contained within the perfect marks, but he only felt warm disappointment.

Jaebum pushed his wrist against the pillow. “Sleep or you starve for a week.” 

Youngjae’s heart fluttered and he was still joyful and proud of his actions. “I don’t have to eat here.” 

Jaebum held the back of Youngjae’s neck, opening his eyes and leaning in almost too close for comfort. “I meant, I’ll ignore you and any communication from you.” 

Youngjae  _ grinned _ . “Sure you will, hyung.” He tapped their noses together like a cat kiss and curled his arms back between their chests. “Besides, you’ve touched mine. It’s fair.” 

“Just...go back to sleep.” 

“Okay,” Youngjae answered happily. 

They moved and shifted until Youngjae buried his face in Jaebum’s chest, and Jaebum hugged him tight and safe like he was a childhood teddy bear. It was more comforting than he thought, and he nuzzled against Jaebum before easily drifting into his dreams.    
  


~*~

 

The day was actually busier than Jaebum anticipated. He was in the middle of fixing breakfast when their work cell rang, and it wasn’t likely Mark would answer politely if the ringing woke him up. Technically, Jaebum wasn’t allowed to answer any phone except his own, but he hadn’t been able to shake off whatever was rising up in his chest because of Youngjae, and the best way to take care of his warring mind was to throw himself into a job. 

So, really, he made the day busy when he somewhat accidentally slipped the work phone into his back pocket. He left breakfast out since someone would probably hear him walk out the door and wake up, and he exited the house after grabbing his gloves and swinging a navy trench coat over his shoulder. 

Which was probably originally Jinyoung’s, but he refused to go back and find his own black coat. At least most of his partner’s coats were five sizes too big with a waist belt, so it fit his shoulders just fine. 

The first job he dealt with was a dead ghost. It had been stuck far too long, in a patch that used to be a full garden. The fences blocking it off had been chained and locked, and high enough that it wasn’t comfortable or easy to get over, so no living energy besides the flora had been near the ghost in a significant period of time. And the thing about nature was that it also wasn’t meant to live forever, and didn’t rebirth every time, and the more the ghost sucked nutrients and life from the soil and petals, the faster they faded away, giving the already dead thing nothing to live off, and it deteriorated into the ground, permeating far beyond the garden fences. 

Jaebum was decent with nature magic, but not even close to what Jackson could do. He did his best anyway, breaking the locked gates down with nothing more than the palm of his hands, much to the land owner’s shock. He harnessed the breeze and what little sunrays he could gather, and focused them into the ghost’s most frequented areas. The most toxic section was by a bush that had once been hydrangeas. 

More purple than blue judging from how the ground felt beneath his feet. 

The past suddenly flashed in his mind, of the royal garden he had entered  _ once _ . Twice, if he was being technical. It wasn’t ever his place to see, but the king had wanted evening tea there, and since Mark was sick and sleeping, the king had requested Jaebum serve it. He was allowed to sit, even allowed to share a cup at the same dainty round table, or kiss the back of his hand if he desired. 

Jaebum desired. But there were others with a higher status who could enter this place freely, and if he was ever caught treating the king so warmly, it was possible they’d find a way to stun his powers for good. So instead, he had carefully picked a small hydrangea bloom from the bush, and tucked it behind the king’s ear, caressing his cheek before bidding him, and his sullen caged bird, a good night. 

The landowner tapped his shoulder because he had been so lost in the memory. He tore himself away from it, reminding himself he heard caws of crows in the distance and not a squawk or chirp, and the hydrangeas here were long dead, and the ones in the royal garden were full and always a deeper purple. And the royal garden wasn’t gated in, but rather had such endless, invisible edges that Jaebum wondered which direction it even extended in. 

He also accidentally burned a hole with the sunlight, multiple feet deep in the ground where the ghost had obviously taken its last spiritual breath. 

It didn’t take a  _ hole  _ to rid the soil of its poison, but Jaebum certainly explained that this was the only way to guarantee a proper cleansing. He took off five percent of the total to make up for it anyway, otherwise Jinyoung would likely spell him on house arrest for the rest of their days. Even if the apocalypse happened, he’d be locked inside, glued to the couch with a bucket of popcorn while his coven tried to protect the worlds without him. 

In theory, it seemed like the break he needed, but in practice, Jinyoung would not be able to watch both Jackson and Mark at the same time, and Jaebum would end up burning both realms to the ground if something happened. 

So he settled things with the landowner, and took up the next voice mail mission. Which was surprisingly from a sentient garden gnome. The majority of the time, other non-human beings avoided the witches at all costs, but Jaebum could recall a couple of other incidents where there was no one else to call except them. Like the birthing werewolf in the early 1900s, and a poisoned succubus, who they found in time to reverse and cure with Jackson’s assumed antidote. 

And this time, it was a gnome calling about a dispute between a vampire and a fairy, and with how the gnome made a point to record the shrill shrieking and loud flapping, Jaebum knew it wouldn’t end well. For anyone. 

Vampires he could handle. Even called himself an acquaintance with one named Hakyeon. 

But fairies? 

He’d be lucky if he didn’t have to use magic from at least five miles away. 

Jaebum sighed, grit his teeth, and carried on. 

 

*

 

The night was black by the time he returned home. The last job was farther away than what he preferred, and it ended with a tree growing through a roof, and Jinyoung’s navy coat a bit more tattered than it was that morning. He sat with the headlights off, and no light on inside the car, and dropped his forehead to the wheel. 

He was exhausted. His muscles ached and his physical being desperately wished to claw out his soul and gnaw it into ruins. He pushed himself so far to organize his own mind, and yet, he was right back where he started. He was hoping Youngjae was inside, playing something on the couch so he could just fall into him and nap. Or sleep. For a year. 

Jaebum just pictured his eyes, and the chestnut strands that fell around them. 

And then he thought about the flaming candles, and his mind combined the two into imagining the other scenario where he hadn’t noticed the flames, or one where Jackson had been even less focused and burned the entire room down in a near instant. 

Jaebum gasped, startled at the phantom emotion straining his chest, and he knocked his forehead against the wheel again. 

He just missed having somewhere to call home, and feel safe in. It used to be here, in the house with his three companions, but then they basically adopted three humans. And Jaebum hadn’t missed the increase of calls and the differing energies in the air. The soul of the king was out there. And it was a threat to them, and this house. 

But he thought in Youngjae’s presence, he could pretend, just for a second, that he wasn’t a witch. And that he wasn’t seeking his own death in trying to find the witch king. 

And if Youngjae wasn’t home, he was going to sleep in Mark’s bed. 

It was enough of a thought to gather his courage, and finally leave the car. Youngjae wasn’t inside, but neither was Yugyeom or Bambam. 

Jackson swung out from the hall and jogged, and then slid over in his socks to Jaebum. “Turn back, hyung. It’s not safe, and you might  _ die _ ,” he intensely whispered, bracing a palm on his chest to push him closer to the door again. 

“Think at this point, only my own magic will kill me,” he mumbled under his breath. 

Jackson attempted to get his point across once more, but they both saw Jinyoung confidently round into the living room, with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk that said he already knew  _ everything _ . 

“Go. Keep Mark hyung away for me,” he pat Jackson’s hand. The blonde bit his lip and blinked his big puppy eyes in terrible worry, but he nodded and went through the hall. Jaebum hung the jacket on the coat rack, and stuffed his gloves into his back pocket. He removed the work cell from his other pocket and plugged it into a charger by the couch. 

And then he sat down at an angle in the corner seat, resting one foot on his knee. He pretended to be disinterested in whatever Jinyoung was going to say. 

“Fun day, hyung?” 

Jaebum shrugged and closed his eyes. “If our work is  _ fun _ now, then sure. Tons. Like a child at a playground with a happy meal.” 

“Got your share of chicken nuggets, then?” 

Jaebum realized he actually forgot to eat, but he wasn’t about to let Jinyoung know that. He stretched out on the couch, his joints cracking and groaning from a complete lack of rest and care. “Yup. One hundred of them. Just for myself.” 

Jinyoung stalked over, and the world behind Jaebum’s eyes darkened. Jinyoung crouching next to him never ended well. “With what money did you buy them, hyung?” 

Jaebum faced the back of the couch, pretending to not listen. 

“Was it with the five percent we lost from the garden owner? Or the money we owe for the sudden growth of a gingko  _ inside  _ a house? Or did you buy them from the fairy for a  _ special  _ price after nearly clipping their wings off?” 

“They deserved it.” 

Jinyoung sighed, exasperated, and lightly tapped the edge of the couch with his fist. “This is the exact reason why Mark handles the calls. Some of it is better for me, or Seunie, or you, or himself...you have to remember, hyung. You aren’t….” 

Jaebum’s jaw tensed. He wasn’t afraid to face Jinyoung now. Now, he was declaring battle. “Not what, hm? Say it.” 

Jinyoung wrung his hands and studied the plush fabric. “No matter how much time has passed...you know there’s always moments when your magic--” 

“It’s  _ fine _ .” 

“The more things happen, or the closer that soul gets to us, you know your control will deteriorate. Or it might shift again to something you’ve forgotten how to wield altogether.” Jinyoung reached to touch him, but let his hand rest on the arm of the couch instead to steady himself. “If we don’t keep the balance within this house, your assignments may end worse, Jaebum. Or you’ll set a room on fire, or blow up the acres of field outside.”

Jaebum suddenly stood up, not bothering to help Jinyoung after knocking him over. He walked heavy-footed into the kitchen to get a cup of chilled water, downing it in one go. He wished it was something stronger, something burning his throat and killing his brain cells and breaking down his control barriers, but he had been riled enough in the past to know that wasn’t the smartest way out of this confrontation. He still nearly broke the glass cup with his grasp before gently setting it down on the counter on a slow exhale. 

His palms folded over the edge of the counter. He hung his head and remembered the candles. Now he understood. Jinyoung was worried  _ he  _ had been the cause. That he was already unstable from the resurgence of the king’s soul, and the manipulative effect it had on the power balance. But if it had been his fault, would he have been able to calm the flames as easy? Wouldn’t they have burned blue instead of orange? 

It certainly hadn’t felt like the source belonged to him. 

“Jackson lit those candles.” 

It had to have been Jackson. 

Jinyoung quietly padded over, dusting ash off his lounging pants. “It wasn’t,” he whispered. “Mark hyung left his binding jewlery on.” 

Jaebum’s head was starting to spin. “We both know that ring doesn’t mute his abilities.” 

“But in combination with his armband  _ and  _ anklet?” 

Nothing truly muted Jackson’s energy, but he couldn’t  _ disagree  _ that nothing major ever happened with all three of his binding accessories on. Had it really been his fault? Was he already losing control this early on? 

It never happened this quickly before, and when it did happen, it was noticeable. He reversed the damage before it left his palms, caught the falling trees and quenched the flames before they ever reached a populated area. But this time, he was bringing the damage  _ with  _ him. 

He hadn’t doubted himself in decades, perhaps even over a century, and the sudden intensity of it caught him so off guard. He pushed off the counter and stared at his hands, curling and unfurling his fists and fingers, examining them as a foreign, toxic extension of someone else’s body. He certainly didn’t want to take this argument further, and he didn’t feel right to find Mark just to possibly fight with him, too. And he already sent Jackson to keep him quiet, so Jaebum’s only options were to leave, and if he didn’t want to make any other mistakes with his magic, he’d have to find another close distraction. 

“Where are they,” Jaebum grit his teeth. 

“The jewelry? I’m not sure if you want to touch the residual energy, but--” 

“No,” Jaebum hissed. “The kids, Jinyoung. Where’d they go?”

“Hyung…” 

“Forget it.” Jaebum stalked past Jinyoung, carefully breathing out his anger on his way to the door. He grabbed the keys and slid into a pair of sandals. When he had his hand on the doorknob, Jinyoung sighed and glanced towards him with worried eyes. 

“Bowling. They went bowling.” 

Jaebum said nothing else. 

 

*

 

It was nearing the AM hours, leaving the streets mostly vacant and dreary, The bowling alley was quite old, paint peeling off the building and the neon sign was only half lit and flickering. The parking lot was barren, too, but when Jaebum exited the car, he saw the Denny’s next door was busier. Probably young study groups and late night highs in need of breakfast cravings, or the teams who had already gone bowling and thought convenient food was better than going to a drive-thru five minutes down the road. 

Inside the bowling alley was busy, but tolerable. He wished the staff wouldn’t play music so loud, or use the headache-inducing rave lights, but perhaps it was all part of the appeal. Jaebum wasn’t one for clubs anyway, and the set up reminded him of one. 

An employee tried to ask if he’d be needing bowling shoes, or if he’d order snacks, but he was tight-lipped and annoyed at the entire day, and he only wanted to find his three responsibilities. 

It was relatively easy to follow the echo of Bambam’s screeching, and Youngjae yelling in absolute failure. Strangers shrunk away as he walked carelessly behind their lanes and maneuvered past a couple waitresses. Jaebum knew he probably appeared murderous or dangerous, and he felt on the very edge of being just that. He reached the last lanes, seeing the familiar faces laughing and play hitting each other. Plus one more face he didn’t know, and from the looks of it, he was a creature of Spring. 

Jaebum was really hoping to only deal with human brats tonight. 

Bambam noticed him first, and kept his mouth shut, but tapped Yugyeom and Youngjae to bring their attention to him. 

Jaebum kept walking until he was in front of Bambam. He fisted his shirt collar, pulling the younger forward. He only yelped, which was less than what Jaebum expected. “Not even a greeting?” 

“If you stopped choking me,” Bambam retorted. 

Jaebum was ready to hang him on the wall, but Youngjae  _ giggled _ . And he set Bambam back on his feet, slowly releasing the fabric from his fingers. “You didn’t even give us five seconds, hyung.” Youngjae lightly took his wrist and led him to the black, stiff couch against the wall. “I won’t ask what happened, but just relax, okay? Pick a new fight with me if you want, hyung. Bambam’s losing right now, anyway. No need to kill him when he’s dying of humiliation.” 

Surprisingly, Jaebum took the offer and sat down. Youngjae handed him a cookie and while standing, ran his hand through his hair. It didn’t cure his anger, or breakdown his doubts, but somehow, he felt even more defeated and exhausted. He spaced out too many times when he was supposed to be aware and professional. If the candles that night were him, he could have burned everyone down with what he was lacking. 

The others went back to playing, Yugyeom only worriedly pouting in his direction, trying to wave the Spring boy off like everything was okay. 

Youngjae smiled softly, but before he could leave, Jaebum held his hand and pressed it to his cheek. He closed his eyes and let the warmth and calm radiate into him. He thought briefly of palace rooms and velveteen bedding, ill-fitting silk shirts and early morning flowers after an all-night rain. He breathed in a warm cracking stone, and exhaled the pleads and screams of those begging for food and stable shelter. 

He reminded himself what would happen if he let himself fall any further. What had happened before, in another place and time, and of every incident that nearly led to it again in this place. It was possible the witch realm was a lost cause by now, but he couldn’t bear to be the end of the human realm, not when the very reason he was here was to find their king, and make it as right as he could. 

Jaebum quietly thanked Youngjae, kissing his knuckles before letting go. He tore the cookie in half, sharing it to the younger. “Who’s the bunny?” 

Youngjae ate his half of the cookie. “Jungkookie. Yugyeom’s friend from some multimedia class.” 

“You know?” Jaebum’s eyes widened a little. 

“Know?” Youngjae’s eyebrows wiggled as he sorted through his own thoughts, finally kneeling and leaning in to whisper loudly at Jaebum. “He’s really a  _ bunny _ ? It was just a joke because of his teeth and eyes and behaviors, but… _ seriously _ , hyung? Does he have hidden ears and a tail?” Youngjae seemed  _ excited  _ to know everything Jaebum could see. 

“It’s more that his spirit is interconnected with the aura of one. Like how there are water sprites? Or moon protectors. He’s like that. A sprite or spirit of Spring, to bloom it and protect it.” Jaebum bit on his cookie rather aggressively. “Still don’t trust those fuckers, though.” 

Youngjae slightly winced, but recovered quickly. “He’s really nice, though. You don’t have to trust him, but maybe you can play with us and get to know him?” 

“Your teams would be uneven.” 

“Join Bam and Yugyeom’s team.” 

“To humiliate them more?” 

“Well, hyung,” Youngjae curled a finger into the collar of Jaebum’s shirt. He was teasing and pretending shy, and Jaebum hated that he was hooked anyway. “If you manage to win, I could reward you.” 

Jaebum wanted to grab his shoulder, or his collar, or his neck, but thought better of it and simply tightened his fist against his thigh. “You’d want them to win, too?” 

Youngjae sheepishly grinned and shrugged. “Details. You’ve just had a hard day, hyung, and at the end of it, don’t you deserve something good?” 

Jaebum gave in. He slid a hand into the back of Youngjae’s hair and pulled him forward for a short, but intense kiss. He wanted more, to taste him and bite his lips until they were red and swollen, but even in the darkened bowling alley, he needed to control himself before his magic infused with his actions again. 

Youngjae giggled, lips against his ear. “Whatever you want, hyung.” And then he got up and joined the others, clapping them on the back and building the mood to a calmer, more comfortable one. 

Jaebum evened his breathing and made sure there was nothing obvious straining his pants, and he took his place in rotation, playing the rest of the game as seriously as he dealt with magic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasn't that just so much fun (i'm having a crisis this story hurts pls send help) 
> 
> just as with Dreamin' cut scene, this orgy would not exist without anto so go say thank you twt/nihilssi . just basically anytime there's sex in this universe just go thank her. she threatens me until i write them otherwise this thing would be entirely different 
> 
> habitually here's [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor) and thanks to everyone so far for reading!! the few comments i've gotten are so nice and i'm happy ppl are finding interest in this world we built


	9. Scene IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder that hyung is used randomly within hyungline s o 
> 
> anyway 
> 
> :))))

Yugyeom spent more of his time in the basement library as the incidents increased in both number and strength. He tried to keep his meditation routine, which he moved into the open living room since Nora became a warm comfort rather than a burning nuisance. But the coven began using it as a venting space instead of simply taking a shower and sleeping for as long as they could to get over their arguments. And the library wasn’t entirely built for the type of concentration he needed. Yugyeom hardly resonated with his geode without Jaebum’s calm voice to guide him through it, anyway. Ever since he met failure with it, he couldn’t reach as deep into its raw power as before. 

He couldn’t traverse the many elements converging in and around this rare history, and the vibrations he once felt beneath his feet were starting to fade with every new irritation rising up in him over the realization that he was almost entirely useless. He left various books open and scattered along the floor and around the chair by the fireplace, looking for one little hint as to what form the king’s soul could take. 

It had to be out there, watching them and listening. Probably laughing at how oblivious they were to miss their enemy existing in a stranger they passed by every day on the way to school or the store or to save Bambam from death  _ again _ . 

_ Again.  _ It was some extremely potent Winter disease, an inner frost that tried to make Bambam’s body believe he was ready for a deadly hibernation, like most other plants that went dormant during the colder seasons. 

Yugyeom was powerless, not even having a very basic grasp on regular poisons and common diseases, let alone  _ magical  _ ones. He couldn’t even mix herbs right with Jackson’s close direction. Not to even mention Jackson wasn’t getting enough sleep to keep his own plants happy and healthy, and he refused to sleep when Yugyeom offered to wake him up when a half hour passed. Jaebum glared more, and instead of seeking Mark for healing, he only asked for Youngjae because Mark was biting everyone’s heads off for simply breathing during the whole five minutes he finally got to relax. 

Then, there was Jinyoung. When he wasn’t busy trying to find the rip between the realms, he was logging the incidents by date, location, and his own number categories like hurricanes and earthquakes, searching for some kind of pattern. But so far, the only common pattern was the fact that Yugyeom was mostly left unharmed and unaffected. Whether that was by pure luck and chance, they had no idea.

But Yugyeom certainly was not a witch. Even Jinyoung was confident in that fact, which didn’t help narrow anything else down about the king’s current persona. 

Yugyeom loudly groaned and let his body slide off the chair until he was curled on his side under the table. The stone was surprisingly more comfortable, albeit freezing from the soil beneath its foundation, but moving wasn’t the most appealing action he could think of. He only wanted to wallow in the fact that he had spent several days--and weeks--pushing off assignments or finishing them far too quickly just so he could research for the coven and come out of it empty handed. 

He heard footsteps echo at the other end. 

A pause, and then a drawn out sigh. 

The footsteps came closer, slowly, books stacking onto books as they continued deeper into the library. And then Yugyeom saw the familiar pair of tightly laced combat boots. 

Jackson set the books on the table and kneeled, taking a second to just observe Yugyeom’s pitiful state. 

“Just poison me with your dying plants.” 

The older gently sat on the stone floor, crossing his legs and he reached forward to pet Yugyeom’s hair. “It’s chaotic for everyone, Gyeom. Mark and Jaebum are nearly ripping the living room apart panel by panel with just their words.” 

“What happened?” 

“Jaebum was too bloody from exorcising some type of fleshling born from a rose bush and asked the group to buy  _ any  _ soft drink on the way home.” 

“No one bought any.” 

“Oh, they did,” Jackson cringed and his hand just curled into Yugyeom’s hair. “Mark bought strawberry milk--used to be like his comfort thing, but Jaebum just wanted a fucking  _ soda  _ or  _ juice. _ ” 

“Oh my god,” he whispered. 

“So instead of admitting he’s really okay with it, like he would have even a week or two ago, he got in Mark’s face. Literally. And that’s when I ran.” 

Yugyeom wrapped his hand loosely around Jackson’s wrist. “I’ve really tried  _ everything  _ to find out what’s happening. All I know is I’m never a target, and he  _ has  _ to be centralized in the city. Maybe even goes to our campus. Or shares our classes. If I just find the missing piece, this place will be normal again. You guys can sleep and guard the boundaries.” 

Or return to their realm. 

“It’s not only  _ your  _ responsibility. The four of us have lived it over and over, and there’s always this hurricane before the decades of calm. Sometimes I wonder if he’s really enjoying toying with us, or if he’s always running away, too scared to face us.” 

Yugyeom noticed the discoloration under his eyes, and the bitter sadness spilling from his heart into the wearied lines on his face, the crease between his eyebrows and the way he bit his lips, nervous and anxious and worried. He said they had been through it before, but Yugyeom knew the hidden meaning of that claim. 

They hadn’t gotten  _ this  _ far into the storm before the calm came. They hadn’t ever accepted humans into their home that needed protection, or built this much attachment to anyone outside of their coven that were dragged into their circumstances. 

They had been through it, but not like this, and it was terrifying for everyone. 

“If we go up there and they’re still fighting, and I make them stop, will you finally get some rest? With me. I need sleep, too,” Yugyeom admitted.

Jackson shook his head, but Yugyeom saw the smile wanting to show. “Jinyoungie won’t like it if I let you die, but go ahead, kid. Be heroic. Save me from my sleepless life.” 

Yugyeom slapped his hand. “Don’t be dramatic, hyung. Maybe it’s already solved.” 

“Not even meteors striking them both would solve it.” 

Yugyeom scoffed and finally maneuvered around the table to stand, stretching his legs and waiting for the tingle in his forearms to disappear, and the warmth in his fingertips to return. Jackson shot him a warning gaze, questioning if he was sure he could handle whatever they’d interrupt, but Yugyeom wanted a bed to sleep in, and a bulk of blankets around him. 

He was sure. 

 

*

 

Nora was waiting outside the library entrance. Well, Nora, Kunta, and Odd. She was frightened enough to split herself apart, and all three smaller firecats had their tails flaming and trailing ash, the tips nearly blue, their firefur hotter than if it had just been Nora as a whole. 

The hallway still seemed to be intact, but the living room furniture had been  _ somewhat  _ rearranged. And maybe the walls were repainted or  _ unpainted  _ or maybe those were just dents and holes adding an entirely new texture to the plaster. 

“I  _ tried _ , Jaebum. I tried! What’s the big fucking thing? Are we going back to when I was just the serving boy you loved to hate? Too fucked to say a goddamn thank you just like you were too fucked to admit what was going on with us? Now you’re too fucked to ask for a cola you drink all the time when you’ve been crying about strawberry milk for 43 days?” 

Yugyeom winced back into Jackson. Their argument was more personal, and ran deeper than the roots of the trees in a preserved national forest. 

The television was screeching with static, low volume but high frequency. 

“Don’t get petty, and don’t keep track of my life like that. Days mean  _ shit  _ to us.”

Mark threw the remote at Jaebum. He threw a fork and a pair of chopsticks, intent on making them both lodge into his skin, but he blocked them with ease. Mark went to throw a laptop, and Yugyeom finally stepped in, because that was, at this point, his and Bam’s laptop. It wasn’t their data to carelessly destroy over some  _ milk _ . 

“I’m not magic, but throw that and I’ll have no mercy, hyung. No one here knows what my anger is capable of, so put it  _ down _ ,” Yugyeom warned through clenched teeth. He almost added please, but the rush in his veins told him to hold his ground and just survive for the next couple minutes as the seemingly rational one. “That’s school projects and  _ weeks _ of research and Jinyoung hyung’s mission logs you’d be destroying. Computer memory can not be recovered by magic.” 

“How do you even know?” Mark still poised it for throwing. 

Yugyeom rolled his head along with his eyes. “Do you people even read your own history in that basement? Airplanes, lightbulbs, telephones, radio--literally everything technology in its early time, was first tried by an influence of magic. Fried and melted every prototype. So, I suggest, if you all want us to keep helping, and want to keep eating my caring mother’s food, leave the laptop out of this stupid fight.” 

Mark set the laptop down and turned his next plan of attack onto Yugyeom. “If you value oxygen, don’t call this a stupid fight. You still don’t know how shit works here.” 

“If he’s read everything in that library, I think he has a good fucking guess of it,” Jaebum said, stuffing a hand in his pocket. 

“Are you just on everyone else’s side except  _ ours _ ?” 

“There are no sides here!” Jackson yelled. He stepped fully into the living room from behind Yugyeom, walking as close as he dared between them. “We help them. They help us. We help each other!” He ran his hand through his messy and destroyed bleached hair, shaking with stress and pain. 

Yugyeom couldn’t watch him do it alone, so he stood beside him just as bravely and held his hand for mutual strength and support. 

“They haven’t been here long, so maybe they don’t know us like we know us, but who cares? His friend has nearly died in this thing like five times and he’s  _ still  _ here. His other friend has Jaebum so far out of his own head and element that we’re trashing the living room over soda and milk, and he’s  _ still  _ here. And none of them have whispered a word about us to anyone outside of this house. Do you get that?” 

Yugyeom held his hand tighter, grateful for his points, but not able to say anything. 

“If either of you see  _ sides  _ in this and forgo the hints of loyalty, I might as well recreate the whole damn mess and overthrow both your hyung and leadership positions. Don’t ask me for a remedy or a drink for the next week or it might be potioned with pleasantries to encourage better attitudes. And you  _ know  _ it’d be strong enough to work on Jaebum.” 

The room fell silent, save from Nora, Odd, and Kunta’s careful steps and flickering fur. 

“If you do want soda so bad, I have one hidden in the bottom drawer of the fridge, beneath all the veggies. If you take it, sleep this thing away and don’t let it come back tomorrow. We can’t always explode about the small things when we’re too stressed on the big things. And if this is bigger than just milk, deeper in your history, then  _ please _ , just work it out so we can concentrate on surviving the jobs and research and whatever else this soul has coming for us.” Yugyeom glanced intently at both of them, waiting for their gazes to match his before looking away again. “You made Jackson hyung get too serious to be comfortable. That should mean something.” 

“We’re going to sleep in the master bedroom, but I’m spelling it so you two stay out. Either sleep alone or sleep together. I don’t care what happens, just don’t scare your own cat-- _ cats _ \--again.” 

Jaebum snapped his head to see his firecats, hunkering low and growling in case he was going to yell at them next. His eyes immediately softened with apology and worry at them, unhinging his jaw and crouching down slowly with his hand out until Nora barely touched her nose against his fingertips. He sighed in relief and let his body collapse to the floor, Kunta and Odd following his movement and flopping to the floor. 

Mark began picking up their mess, manually for the small things and carefully fixed the furniture as quietly as he could to not disturb the cats. 

Jackson nudged Yugyeom to head towards the bedroom. He didn’t even get five steps in before falling against the wall and sliding to the floor. He folded his arms over his knees and buried his head. He wasn’t crying, but he wanted to. There was a pain inside that clearly didn’t belong to him. He witnessed something and heard things he wasn’t apart of. With everything they had been through, Mark was still right that they didn’t know the coven’s complete and personal history. 

There was too much buried within them and these walls, and Yugyeom didn’t deserve to know. DIdn’t  _ have  _ to know, and maybe didn’t even want to know, but he still missed the beginning, when it was just a stupid pizza box and petty teasing. He never wanted things to take a dive into physically and emotionally destructive arguments to release their stress. To pull out their own beginnings and shortcomings from the depths of a realm they were still fighting for. 

“It’ll be okay,” Jackson whispered between rustling sheets and opening drawers. It didn’t take long for him to touch Yugyeom’s shoulder and coerce him to look up, showing him a pair of fleece sweatpants and an oversized sweater. “There have been worse incidents.” 

Yugyeom slowly unwound himself and gratefully took the clothes. “I’m afraid to know.” 

Jackson changed into basketball shorts and a large tee, going back to fluffing the pillows as Yugyeom dressed into the fleece. “They started the garden outside together, like way back, and Jaebum hyung planted something he thought Mark would like and turns out Mark had told him before that his magic was allergic to it, and he had forgot. Because Jaebum likes a lot of pretty things, though he won’t admit it, and he just thought the plant would be pretty. One track mind and all.” 

“How can you forget allergies?” 

“Trust me. It’s happened before. And you for sure don’t want to know.” 

For some reason, Yugyeom gagged just thinking of the possibilities. 

“Anyway, so once it bloomed and Mark’s magic started going haywire, and he found the source, he hurled fence panels at Jaebum. And I mean like, post to post panels, not individual planks.” 

“So this is just a thing for them? It’s what they do?” 

“Generally, yeah, just usually about more justifiable things. I get we can’t fall apart over what’s happening, but if we act like this for the small irritations or miscommunications, can we actually say we’re doing our best to see the big picture?” 

Yugyeom padded to the bed. “There’s no good answers. I just wish you all weren’t so stubborn about getting at least five hours of sleep. We’d all be better off.” As Yugyeom had learned from his own mistakes that he needed  _ some  _ sleep to function. 

They crawled into the middle of the mattress, under all the blankets and Yugyeom hoarded a couple extra pillows to place under his side to mimic someone supporting him from behind. “Has hyung said anything about Bammie?” 

“Still recovering. Slower than he expected. He wasn’t sure if they’d get home tonight. Might just have to sleep at Youngjae’s.” 

“What if he wakes up and I’m not there? He’s gonna be mad that I left him. I should’ve stayed there.” 

Jackson hooked a leg over Yugyeom and pulled on his arm to hold his hand. “Jinyoungie will explain. He’s the one who told you to be here, probably because he knew something might explode if there wasn’t a possible sacrifice to extinguish the fire. And there’s something about Jaebum and Jae that is just....too much for a situation like this.” 

“I just want Bammie to have something good.” 

“I know. We keep trying.” 

Yugyeom nodded, appreciating their attempts to care for him when they could. It’s not like they set his best friend as a target on purpose. Despite an overflow of control, Jackson really was an excellent peacekeeper. He closed his eyes and shuffled towards Jackson until his head was tucked against his chest. “You’re kinda cool, hyung.” 

Jackson ran his fingers through Yugyeom’s hair, making him hum and relax. “You, too. I wasn’t as afraid to face them after watching you. Don’t underestimate what you can do here, okay? Even moral support is magic in itself.” 

“Okay,” he mumbled into Jackson’s chest. “I’m a dead man tomorrow, though.” 

Jackson softly chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Jinyoungie won’t let it happen, and Mark won’t, either. He thinks you’re really stupid sometimes, but you’ve read things in that library. He knows you know things, especially now. And you offered your hidden soda, so it’ll be okay, Gyeomie. Promise.” 

“It’s warm,” he sighed.  

“Good, then sleep and dream comfortably, okay?” 

Yugyeom let it seep into his muscles and his bones, his heartbeat relaxing to the pace of Jackson’s, and he panicked for a second wondering if he was being spelled into forgetting his stress so he’d have dreams instead of nightmares, but the fact that he was still feeling anxious at the edges proved he wasn’t. Or if he was, Jackson had a lot better control of it with him, and he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He melted into the mattress and Jackson and thought of Jinyoung caring for his best friends, maybe cuddling Bambam too, just like how Jackson was holding him, and at the end of it, he thought of Mark and Jaebum sitting on the couch as Jaebum quietly and stubbornly drank the strawberry milk he was grateful for. 

He fell into the white noise of the house and felt a protection barrier light up the walls, holding them in place for as long as they chose to live there. And then he envisioned his geode, still in the basement library, abandoned at the table he was working at before. As he drifted, the library whispered to him through his geode, transferring panic into his dreams. 

He was running through a corridor, telling himself to go just one more step; turn one more corner. He slipped into a room he had never seen, but it felt  _ familiar _ in this dreamscape. He eyed the curtains and made to hide behind them, glancing around for a better plan. He reasoned he couldn’t hide under the bed, either, and the closet didn’t feel much safer. There was a dressing screen he could manipulate into a fake wall, but the guards chasing him were likely smart enough to see through that plan. Yugyeom wasn’t sure what would happen if he died in this dream, so he just needed enough time to formulate a defense strategy. 

Or a way to plead and prove his innocence. For whatever he was being chased for. 

At the far end of the room in an adjacent alcove, he saw another door. He didn’t have anything else to lose, and when he approached and opened it with caution, he was inside a bathroom. There were no tiles, or fancy accents, and he didn’t see a faucet by the clawfoot tub. The room was simple, and  _ old _ . His nerves built up more when he thought about how much he didn’t  _ belong _ here. He needed an escape plan now. He needed  _ time _ . 

It wasn’t the best, but there was a space between the tub and a shelving unit that didn’t face the door. Yugyeom folded up on the floor, anxiety heavy in his breathing and his eyes stung with fear. Muffled through the walls, he heard the bedroom being pulled and flipped upside down. He quickly glanced around for any other point of exit, or a weapon that might save him so he could get past the guards. But the bathroom was windowless, devoid of nearly any personal belongings. 

He only saw a ring, tucked into the far corner on the shelf. From here, it seemed fairly simple, but still crafted in elegance. Leaning in closer, he saw the ring consisted of violet petals encased in smooth, clean jade. The piece somehow, commanded attention and Yugyeom couldn’t look away. The more he studied it, the more he wanted to hold it. 

To  _ wear  _ it. 

He heard voices and demands growing closer, echoing thin in the small alcove outside the door. 

Yugyeom squinted, noticing an engraved mark in the jade, over the space the violets didn’t color. And when he went to pick it up, his time was up. He held the ring in the palm of his hand, kneeling back into his space when the door was kicked wide open. 

He startled awake with a gasp, skin clammy, and he forced his fist to unclench. It took a minute to find his bearings, glancing around in a panic to check that he really was back in reality. His limbs and muscles trembled as he found his way to the edge of the bed, and his balance was unsteady when he got to his feet. 

Yugyeom tried to rationalize it all as he shuffled along the floor. He promised he wouldn’t leave the geode alone, that he would take care of it and always remember to carry it with him. Remembering last minute that he left it in the library caused his panic to bleed into his dream, as well as knowing he had been reading too much in the library before sleeping, which probably influenced the era and topic of the dream. All he could focus on lately was a realm that was not his own, and tales and battles he only knew of from texts. 

And he had an active imagination, anyway. He internalized those stories too deep, made it come to life to the point where his dream almost felt like a new reality. 

As he exited the room, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes so his vision was a little more focused and clear. Everything was dim and quiet, and he entered the kitchen to down a glass of water. And when he left, facing the living room, he saw Jaebum was sitting on the couch, fully awake and aware. He didn’t have the mental strength to deal with anymore argument aftermaths, and he just wanted to go to the library, grab his geode, and go back to bed in peace. 

Jaebum left him alone to rescue his geode from the library, but when he had to come back through the living room, the witch easily cut him off, jaw tense and gaze murderous. Yugyeom couldn’t fight once Jaebum held his throat. He was really going to die, for no other reason than intervening just so Jaebum and Mark  _ didn’t  _ destroy everything they built together and what they held dear. 

Choking him to death was one hell of a thank you note. 

Yugyeom refused to break eye contact, though, too exhausted from the residual fear still trying to calm itself under his skin. He was ready to surrender, ready to let Jaebum end all of this. 

Nearly a minute seemed to pass. Jaebum’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly. He relaxed his stance and loosened his grip, gaze softening to something like a silent apology. He thumbed Yugyeom’s cheek for a couple moments, pulling him down for a small kiss, and when he was satisfied, took Yugyeom’s hand and led him over to the couch. 

Yugyeom had never been more confused, but he went with it. He only paused to set his geode on the coffee table, quickly moving again so he could sit down before Jaebum changed his demeanor. 

He didn’t change. 

Yugyeom watched as he dragged the blankets from the loveseat over to the couch to give to Yugyeom. He unfolded it as best he could over his lap while Jaebum stayed standing, matching his gaze. 

He clenched and unclenched his fists, searching for  _ something  _ to say. “Um, earlier…” 

Yugyeom exhaled and softly smiled. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m not mad, or hurt. Everything is stressful for  _ everyone  _ right now, but I don’t want petty grudges to be the reason we break.” 

He gestured for Jaebum to sit beside him, but Jaebum asked if they could lay down instead, and he complied. He settled on the inside and Yugyeom’s back faced the edge, and they both worked to lay the blanket over their tired, aching bodies. 

“You know it wasn’t out of disrespect, right, hyung?” 

Jaebum swept Yugyeom’s bangs out of his face and lovingly tucked the hair behind his ears. “I know. Mark hyung and I were both out of line. Jackson probably won’t speak to us tomorrow.” 

“Nah, he’ll be okay, too. If I can forgive you after a few hours, he probably won’t even remember what happened.” Yugyeom silently traced the lines of Jaebum’s cheekbones and jawline, distracting himself from the last bit of underlying anxiety that came from being in a more confined space. He had open air behind him, but it still felt like he had to watch his back in case someone tried to catch him when he wasn’t looking. 

Jaebum sensed the shift and gently put his hand hand over Yugyeom’s cheek. “You didn’t sleep well?” 

“Just weird dreams. Read too much, but it’s hard to wanna sleep. Like when I had sleep paralysis. It becomes the thing I fear most at times.” 

Jaebum carded his hand through Yugyeom’s hair, humming in understanding. “I have nightmares lately, too.” 

Yugyeom couldn’t even begin to fathom about what, assuming they were nightmares of incidents and events he had unfortunately survived. But it wasn’t often that Jaebum was so open and admitting, so Yugyeom held the information for himself, wondering if maybe they had more in common than both of them ever thought possible. 

The light dimmed even further, and Yugyeom studied the sharp angles the shadows painted on Jaebum’s face, but his presence lost all its commanding power, and his body relaxed against the cushions as he continued carrassesing Yugyeom. Jaebum seemed just as normal, just as tired, and just as worried as he was. 

And with nothing else clouding them, Yugyeom picked up Jaebum’s scent. He didn’t know if it was a cologne or body wash, or just what he naturally smelled like, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It was as if someone bottled up a forest the morning after a nightlong snowfall, keeping the sweet and crisp atmosphere fully intact. He could  _ see  _ it; could see the snow, soft and pillowing, sparkling under the fearless winter sun, the earth merely deeply asleep beneath it all, allowing some pine and resilient flora to bloom amidst the freeze. 

Yugyeom briefly wondered if Jaebum tasted similar to winter blossoms and illuminated snowbanks. His finger was already tracing Jaebum’s bottom lip and he shrieked when he realized, dropping his finger immediately. Jaebum barely chuckled. “Did you want to?” 

“What? I don’t want anything. Goodnight!” Yugyeom rambled in panic, tightly closing his eyes and allowing his hand to rest on Jaebum’s waist. 

Jaebum audibly grinned, leaning in to kiss Yugyeom’s forehead, still brushing his hair with a gentle hand. He kissed the corners of his eyes, whispering about his lashes; he pecked his nose, and subtly hovered in front of his lips. “I want something,” Jaebum hushed. “Because it helps me forget enough to sleep sometimes.” 

Yugyeom slowly opened his eyes. “Do you plan to tear me apart? Because that’s not what I want.” 

“No. I just want calm. I just want  _ this _ .” 

Yugyeom attempted to nod. “Yeah, okay. That’s okay.” 

Jaebum closed their distance, his lips soft and warm. He didn’t rush the pace of their kisses, giving the control more to Yugyeom. Yugyeom was the one to linger longer, breathing deep and steady as he threaded a hand through Jaebum’s hair. And when Jaebum was the one to pull away for a breath, Yugyeom chased after it. The heat and rhythm between them was mesmerizing, taking the echoing fear of his dreams right out of his chest and expelling it into another place and time. 

They didn’t get over-passionate and wild, too lost in the simple enjoyment of a matching comfort. For once, they didn’t have pressures and expectations building up inside, no doubts or mistrusts towards each other, and Yugyeom thought there wouldn’t be another moment of disrespect from him from now on. 

He felt like celebrating that epiphany; wanted to create one more thing they could have in common, even temporarily. He broke them apart, breathing uneven only because they  _ hadn’t  _ taken a break in a few minutes. And Jaebum was still touching him like he was delicate. 

But Yugyeom’s curiosity was getting louder, and he just wanted to know if Jaebum’s skin tasted the same as it smelled; he wanted to feel the texture beneath his tongue and lips, and leave a mark for the emotional hurdle they both seemed to finally jump over. Yugyeom brushed his fingers down Jaebum’s neck. “Are hickeys okay? You can leave one, too...if you want.” 

“It’s okay only if I get to sleep on the outside.” 

Yugyeom was probably better off being able to see the open space instead of risking the paranoia of something invisible approaching from behind him. He accepted Jaebum’s terms. 

So, he lightly kissed and nibbled over Jaebum’s lips and jaw, trailing down his neck. Jaebum sighed and swallowed his moan, holding Yugyeom’s hair a little tighter. Just the feather light kisses were enough to coerce his skin to break into goosebumps, and he buried his face into the crook of his neck until the goosebumps and his own stirring emotions calmed down. 

He didn’t want this to lead to anything tonight, and he didn’t want it to represent any kind of unbreakable, unspeakable promise. It just was what it was, and it merely represented another level of trust Yugyeom would keep. Jaebum was a leader, and his hyung, and any deviation from that he would blame on dark magic until it was  _ proven  _ to be Jaebum. 

He counted Jaebum’s pulse to find his grounding again, inhaling the sweet, woodsy scent before continuing his nips and kisses over the sensitive skin. He still took his time, suddenly a little shy and uncertain that Jaebum would let him live until morning after this, or that the other witches would let him live after seeing it. 

Jaebum sensed his hesitance and reassured him. “Jinyoungie leaves marks all the time, just not on display. He shares nice, and if anyone else gets mad, they won’t know who to be mad  _ at _ .” 

“Oh,” Yugyeom breathed out. 

“You thought I was going to announce this to the world?” 

“I dunno,” Yugyeom kept his voice small. “We haven’t always been good about keeping our manners. Maybe it’d be like a badge to show you’ve finally tamed us all.” 

Jaebum lifted his hand away from his hair and Yugyeom thought for sure he was going to be slapped or stabbed, but he soothed over his back instead, hugging Yugyeom closer to him. “You’re really fucking  _ stupid  _ sometimes.” 

He was  _ well  _ aware. But the short exchange built his courage up, and he tentatively pressed his teeth against Jaebum’s neck, tongue flat against his skin. Jaebum tensed a little from the sudden contact, quickly threading his fingers back into Yugyeom’s hair. Yugyeom placed his hand on Jaebum’s hip, and bit and sucked the mark without anymore hesitation. 

Jaebum didn’t exactly taste like his scent, but it resembled it. He was the clean winter air and sweeter midnight oceans, with the slight bitterness of an unscented daily lotion. He wanted to commit the taste to memory, perfect enough for him to long for it even if he was bleeding out on a battlefield. Yugyeom wanted the affectionate bruise to match that unique taste--wanted it look and  _ feel  _ perfect. It wasn’t going to be covered, so it had to be as beautiful and demanding as Jaebum usually appeared. 

Jaebum’s breath hitched, quiet whimpers leaving his mouth. When his legs bent, accidentally knocking against Yugyeom’s, Yugyeom finally let off and left a kiss over his work. 

He obviously needed a minute to recover, and a second to change position because he complained his body was getting too stiff. He laid on his back, pulling Yugyeom to lay on top of him. Yugyeom was worried about crushing him, or suffocating him whole, but Jaebum just forced his weight down, and they went back to slow kissing and fleeting touches, rolling with the emotion until Yugyeom’s back was against the couch and Jaebum was the one on the outer edge. 

Without mercy, Jaebum sucked a bruise over Yugyeom’s collar bone, and he nearly couldn’t handle it. 

Emotionally drained and finally over the  _ witching hours _ , Yugyeom sighed into their last, fluttering kisses, melting into the back of the couch while he re-adjusted their blanket. Jaebum teased over his hickey, trailing his lips down Yugyeom’s neck until he settled into his chest. 

Yugyeom cradled him with both arms, his legs hugging both of Jaebum’s. Warm and exhausted from their insomniatic makeout session, they comforted and coerced each other into sleep. 

 

~*~

 

Bambam had  _ mostly  _ come around, but it was akin to a post-surgery patient waiting for the drugs to wear off. He could identify that Jinyoung and Youngjae were with him, but he rambled on with a tale of swordsmen and butterflies, said he knew a horse that had survived a pirate crew, and asked what it would mean if vampires had to avoid moonlit nights instead of sunlit days. 

Jinyoung hated the word pity, with it having naturally condescending connotations, but that’s what he felt right now. Pity and regret and a twinge of guilt for  _ never  _ being able to save Bambam fast enough. He didn’t want to guess how many more times this would happen before they found their “enemy”, or until Bambam met something he couldn’t recover from. 

Jinyoung needed some fresh air so he didn’t dig too deep into the questions, and Youngjae promised he would keep Bambam safe and alive, and promised he wouldn’t open the door until he returned with a few other supplies. And whatever Bambam meant by  _ toeless foot-gloves.  _

He kept the drive to the mansion quiet, preferring to hear the day waking and moving along with the smooth tires against the pavement, and the breeze passing the open window. And his sigh of relief filled the space when he saw the house was still in one piece. He kept his movement to a minimum, unlocking the door as silently as he could, stepping into the entryway in only his socks, and tiptoeing his way inside. 

He immediately heard Jaebum softly snoring, and saw Yugyeom’s feet sticking off the couch at an awkward angle. They wouldn’t wake up at this point unless someone woke them up, so Jinyoung continued into the kitchen for a homely cup of coffee, brewing enough to serve the other two. He took some choice photographs with his phone, admiring how Jaebum was the one to burrow deep into Yugyeom, trying to disappear into his taller form.  And it nearly worked. On the couch with the blanket askew, Jaebum looked like he was just an extension of Yugyeom. They formed one indecipherable blob, with the only things standing out being Yugyeom’s face and feet, and Jaebum’s silver hair. 

Either the older wasn’t using Jackson’s potion shampoo and conditioner, or his hair was still stubborn about absorbing magic, taking time to build up the color spell like it had when they first arrived in this realm.

Despite their tragedies so far and recently, Jinyoung found himself smiling at them. Because it wasn’t just about humans and witches setting aside their differences to work together into a messed up thing of a family. It was about  _ Yugyeom  _ and  _ Jaebum  _ not killing each other. That scene represented individual and team growth, in the way of grudges and doubts and trust. 

Jinyoung wouldn’t ever ask what happened for them to finally see eye to eye, but he wasn’t going to let go of the result. 

After saving various angles of the cuddlebugs to his camera roll, Jinyoung carefully carried the three mugs over to the coffee table, placing them near Yugyeom’s geode. 

He didn’t even want to be savage and hostile towards them--specifically Yugyeom--so he called to them softly, trying not to shock them awake. “Morning, my babies. I brewed coffee for you.” 

Yugyeom’s hand twitched against Jaebum’s head, and the younger slowly inhaled through his nose. “Hm? Wassup, hyung?” He slurred, still half asleep. 

Jinyoung pat Yugyeom’s head and rubbed Jaebum’s back. “C’mon, coffee’s hot. Time for morning updates.” 

Yugyeom groaned again, stiffening his legs when he stretched and blinked his eyes open. He cutely could only keep one eye half-open. “Oh, hyung? How’s Bammie?” 

“Go away. M’tired,” Jaebum groggily argued. 

He lightly scratched Jaebum’s scalp. “That’s why I brewed  _ strong  _ coffee. Besides, if Seunie and Mark hyung wake up soon…” 

“Ugh, okay. Fine.” He unburied and untangled himself from Yugyeom, kissing his shoulder before carefully sitting up and convincing Yugyeom to do the same. Lethargically and unbalanced from deep sleep, they eventually sat somewhat normal on the couch. 

Jinyoung gasped and then closed his mouth, covering his widening grin with his hand. 

“I know we look like shit. Gimme the damn coffee.” 

“You  _ really  _ did a number on each other.” Jinyoung still swallowed his laughter, but handed a mug to Jaebum and to Yugyeom. 

Yugyeom’s shirt was all twisted and drooping, revealing a purpling mark over his collarbone, and Jaebum had a worse one on his neck. 

“Glad we can all listen to each other, now. So, updates.” Jinyoung sat on the coffee table and sipped his coffee. “We stayed at Youngjae’s, and Bambam woke up, but he’s a little out of it. Not an  _ uncommon  _ side effect of the reversal and recovery spells I had to use. He’s asking for  _ toeless foot gloves _ ?” 

Yugyeom mouthed the words over and over, glancing to the ceiling and kitchen for answers. “Maybe his slide sandals? His house slippers are closed-toe.”  

“Okay, that will have to do. And I also don’t want to move him, yet. We’ll probably stay one more night there to be safe, and then come back. Motion sickness might make the side-effects more unpredictable or longer lasting. If there’s no objections, go ahead and give your updates.” 

“Nothing much,” Yugyeom fibbed. “Just, um, catching some sleep. Quiet night after we got home.” 

Jinyoung quirked an eyebrow and  _ loudly  _ slurped his next sip of warm, bittersweet caffeine. 

Jaebum sighed in defeat. “Mark hyung and I nearly blew the walls down, but they stopped us. Yugyeom sacrificed himself first.” 

Yugyeom nervously hid behind his cup, gulping the hot liquid down, pretending it wasn’t scalding and boiling his throat. 

“Admirable to save them. Did you enter their debate alone?” 

The younger shook his head. “Jackson hyung was right beside me. We supported each other.” 

“And trying to save them just now, with that lie?” 

Yugyeom hung his head and tapped against the ceramic mug. “I know, hyung, I just didn’t think it was worth it to rehash. The lesson was learned, the mistake was corrected…”

Jaebum leaned against the younger and reassured him of his innocence. 

“I’m not mad or upset about it, but things are chaotic and shifting, and even personal arguments that make use of magic as a threat  _ need  _ to be logged. I don’t keep track for fun. I even snapped at Youngjae last night, in his own apartment, and had to log it. If our patterns and behaviors change, we have to know  _ how. _ ” 

Yugyeom nodded. “Okay, hyung.” 

“Telling the truth can also be a form of protecting us, Yugyeom,” Jaebum said in a softer, fonder voice. “It’s just knowing the  _ when _ .” 

Jinyoung set his cup down, now sadly empty. “I didn’t mean to shift the mood so suddenly. Stepping in like you did last night was amazing. You did really well, Yugyeom.” He leaned forward and pat his knee. “Hyung obviously owes you, though, so anything you need today, he’ll take care of. Right, hyung?” He innocently grinned at Jaebum. 

Jaebum gritted his teeth. He knew he didn’t have a choice. “ _ Right _ .” 

“Good! Now, do you mind helping me grab a couple other supplies for Bambam?” 

Yugyeom volunteered, but said the first thing he needed from Jaebum was for him to rest a little longer, or walk around and fix the kinks in his muscles and do whatever morning routine he usually had. 

And in almost no time at all, Jinyoung was back out the door with everything he needed for another day and night, including the sandals he hoped were Bambam’s toeless foot gloves. 

 

~*~

 

Mark cornered Jaebum in their shared bedroom. He didn’t exactly plan to, but he noticed the very obvious hickey on his neck, and how it hadn’t yet shown signs of healing. The only one who ever really marked Jaebum was Jinyoung, and even then it was always in an area that would be covered. He also ruled out Jackson because of how angry he actually was the other night. So it left Yugyeom as the most plausible candidate, and usually their bruises--made from people without magic--healed over in  _ less  _ than a day. 

Or at least yellowed in color to show it was healing. 

But Jaebum’s was still the same dark stain it was yesterday. 

His unwavering stare made Jaebum visibly nervous. 

“Look, I drank the damn milk. It was good. Is that what you wanted?” 

Mark casually slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged, tilting his head. “I was only curious about your  _ neck _ , but I’ll accept your apology, too.” 

“You know what a hickey is, Mark.” Jaebum changed from his long sleeve shirt into an oversized tee, aiming for the door Mark was blocking. 

They were supposed to make dinner tonight, but he wouldn’t leave without getting Jaebum to confirm his suspicions. “It’s not healing.” And without mercy, he pressed on the mark, Jaebum hissing through his teeth because it was still sensitive. “So unless Yugyeom is a secret witch….” 

Jaebum violently grabbed Mark’s wrist. “He’s not, and it’s not a pre-dinner conversation.” 

Mark wolfishly grinned, caressing Jaebum’s cheek with genuine affection, but he verbally teased him. “Oh, my precious Jaebummie’s so  _ shy _ . Was he really that impressive for you to put a  _ preserve  _ cream on it?” 

Jaebum’s face heated and he tore his gaze away, shoulders and stance slumping in ultimate defeat. He released Mark’s wrist and walked into a corner of the room, groaning against the wall. “You don’t even  _ know _ , hyung. It was like my mind was in a  _ voluntary  _ trance, but all we did was  _ kiss _ , and it took me out of my head.” 

Mark smirked and padded over to his pouting lover in the corner, keeping a soothing hand on his back. “Maybe you can find him when you’re vulnerable sometimes. I’m not always here or able to fix it. He’s  _ stupid _ , but not bad.” 

Jaebum sighed and turned around, hooking his chin over Mark’s shoulder to seek his embrace. “He’s  _ really  _ stupid.” 

“One day he’ll fuck up enough again to get a hate-fucking session with you.” 

Jaebum straightened and pushed Mark away. “Okay, cooking time. Nice confession, hyung.” 

“And you’d probably tell  _ him  _ to fuck the anger out of you.” 

Jaebum opened the door and smoothly continued out. 

“Oh my god, you  _ would!  _ You wanna be his good little baby bottom!” Mark yelled and ran after him down the hall. 

“No! No more, hyung.” 

Mark teased him more, eventually catching up by jumping onto his back, and Jaebum didn’t bother supporting him, just moving faster into the kitchen. They still cooked together over laughter and banter, and Mark endlessly tortured him until the others returned home, and he left it for now as just another thread of truth between them.  

 

~*~

 

Youngjae had stayed behind at the apartment just a little longer, reassuring Jinyoung that he would be  _ just  _ fine riding the night buses alone. He understood tensions were high, and that the witch had a lot of responsibilities, especially in saving Bambam again, but he didn’t think it was fair of him to cut his head off for not having quite enough  _ seasalt _ . He technically didn’t even live in the apartment anymore, so why would he restock the kitchen? 

And out of the two of them, Youngjae knew Bambam longer, and wanted him to live more than Jinyoung could guess. He needed Bambam alive as a  _ friend _ , and the coven needed him alive as a  _ clue _ . He stretched the thought to even wonder if they were purposely using him as bait, helping him recover faster just so he could go back into the field and have  _ worse  _ things happen in case it led them to their target any faster. And with such a corrupt possibility, Youngjae refused to ride in the same car, or even be in the same general space as Jinyoung. 

He needed a little more time to weigh the options, wanting to still believe the coven  _ did  _ have their best interest at heart. 

Because Jaebum seemed to genuinely care. And Jackson did his best to even mend strangers on the street who didn’t have money for his homeopathic solutions and medicines. And Mark was just  _ Mark _ . He stayed out of the way, taking jobs and missions, finally taking their emergency calls seriously. 

But there was something about his night with Jinyoung that didn’t sit well in his mind. 

His energy manifested itself  _ physically  _ over the lack of  _ seasalt _ . 

It was stupid, and he apologized, but Youngjae couldn’t let it go. 

He wanted to spend some alone time with Coco, anyway, making sure she was still comfortable and happy with him. So, he took another day to cool off his bitter feelings and bond with his curly white-haired daughter before returning in the evening. 

The buses ran slow and off schedule, but he got through the field just as the night settled in, and the door was unlocked for him. He didn’t miss locking it when he was inside. 

The living room was empty, and he saw Jaebum with a book at the dining table. The older noticed him, too, glancing up from his pages. “Oh, welcome back! Dinner’s in the fridge.” 

Youngjae didn’t have much of an appetite, but his heart drummed, missing Jaebum more than he had realized. He abandoned his backpack near the hallway and walked over to Jaebum, kissing him without wasting another moment. “Missed you, hyung.” 

Jaebum hummed against Youngjae’s touch, setting his book down and shifting in the chair so Youngjae could sit on his lap. “You okay? From Bambam and Jinyoungie?” 

Youngjae wasn’t going to voice his opinions about Jinyoung for now, so he just slightly nodded. He wanted to forget all that and admire Jaebum’s warmth and embrace. He wanted to fall into him and never come back out. “Yugyeomie’s been taking the burden lately, so at least I have more sympathy for him. I’m just happy everyone’s okay still.” 

He took in how Jaebum had chunks of black in his hair, not all of it being silver anymore. His eyes seemed awake, but exhausted, and his jaw still seemed tense from constant stress. He trailed a hand down Jaebum’s face as he relearned him, and then he saw the hickey on Jaebum’s neck, purposely on display and looking fairly recent. 

His mind jumped to Jinyoung being the culprit. He knew what it took for them to release extra energy and stress without harming the humans in the house, and Jinyoung and Jaebum were the ones to take the brunt of it that night. They were both leaders on that job, and probably still had more to work through when Jinyoung came home with Bambam yesterday. 

Youngjae’s mind fogged and his brain nearly malfunctioned, overheating in bitter jealousy, even as Jaebum held him with such radiating fondness. “Want me to get you dinner?” 

“Not really hungry,” he said, pulling Jaebum’s hair. He kissed him again, nothing gentle and kind, because he just wanted to pretend it was only the two of them. There wasn’t anyone else to worry about who would interrupt them, or get between them. He just wanted his fair shot at marking Jaebum, too. 

And at erasing Jinyoung’s mark. Since it was okay to share in this house, he figured that meant he was free to paint over an already colored canvas. 

When Youngjae had his fill of kissing and biting Jaebum’s lips raw, proud of how hard he was breathing and how intense his gaze had become, Youngjae nipped down his neck. He covered the existing hickey, breathing and sucking his own affection and life into it, sinking his teeth into it until Jaebum clung to him and growled low in his throat, never once pushing him away. 

 

~*~

 

Surprisingly, Jackson was the only one home when Jaebum came home from the store. He needed to stock the fridge with soda, in return for the one Yugyeom gave to him to save their entire house. He was clanking around pots and glass bottles, whistling to a couple of his windowsill herbs when he turned to help Jaebum with his groceries. 

But he yelped and nearly fell on his ass when he jumped a foot backwards. “What  _ animal  _ did you spar with? It even looks like you  _ lost _ .” 

“I just let someone release their worries. Now help me and fix your mouth. You’ve seen worse.” 

Jackson stopped his gaping and put some of the groceries into the fridge while Jaebum stocked the cupboards. He was still even wondering  _ how  _ he let Youngjae take things so far. Jaebum could relate to having deep, intense, lingering emotions for far too long and needing to forget them somehow, but even when his skin started to burn after Youngjae heavily bit into him, Jaebum didn’t complain or stop. 

He non-verbally asked for more.  _ Encouraged  _ him. And now it wasn’t a space to preserve and keep bruised like Yugyeom’s was. 

He needed it to heal over as fast as possible so he didn’t have to wear turtlenecks or scarves or button his collar all the way just so clients and strangers wouldn’t be so transparent about their worry and curiosity. And since it was Jackson’s preservation cream he had used, he needed Jackson to reverse its effects so his skin would heal over in a day or two, like it normally would have. 

He just didn’t want to explain  _ why  _ he used the cream in the first place. So he lied. 

Jaebum was the worst liar he knew. “Hey Jackson?” 

The blonde closed the fridge and faced him with his elbows on the counter. “Yeah, hyung?” 

“I accidentally used your preserve cream instead of my lotion last night. Do you have a reversal for it?” 

Jaebum was a  _ shit  _ liar. Even he knew Jackson kept his products “out of reach of children”, which meant Jaebum could have only used it if he was  _ looking  _ to use it, but he couldn’t think of any other plausible explanation. 

Jackson was  _ clearly  _ turning the gears in his mind, face scrunching and his eyes narrowing, puckering his lips together in debate. But he relaxed and softened, taking pity on Jaebum anyway. “Yeah, it’s topical, too. It’s not an instant reversal, but it should neutralize by evening. But, you heal faster when you sleep anyway, so that thing should start disappearing by tomorrow.” 

Jaebum gently ruffled Jackson’s hair. “Thanks. And Mark said he has clearings booked all day, so you’re in charge of the calls, in case they keep ringing. I think Jinyoungie has something nasty on his plate, and I might need to give him backup later.” 

“I’ll listen for it.” 

As an extra boost of gratitude and support, Jaebum briefly touched their foreheads together before going off to find the reversal product. Jackson explained it was more of a liquid substance instead of a cream, and that he had special cotton pads beside it he would need. It was in a room near the end of the left hall. There was a false panel on the wall that opened into  _ one  _ of Jackson’s hidden apothecary cupboards, and Jaebum carefully put the liquid on as instructed, using a pad and dabbing it over the area before fully wiping the reversal liquid on his wound. 

It stung like lemon juice and salt put over an open cut, but dulled to an annoying itch. And Jackson had driven in the point that he wasn’t allowed to touch it or wash it off until either the evening or the next morning. If he had to take a shower, he was to put  _ saran wrap _ over his neck before stepping under the water. So Jaebum just sighed and suffered his way through it. 

 

*

 

Youngjae’s heart swelled with pride and something akin to victory when he saw Jaebum and Jinyoung come home arguing and keeping their distance as they stepped inside. His hickey was dark and obvious against Jaebum’s pale skin, and irrationally, he wanted it to always be there. He also assumed Jaebum being so riled up meant he would want to sleep somewhere else, with  _ someone  _ else, but the older made a point to say he was sleeping alone. 

He even said it while glancing at every single member of the house, including Youngjae. And there was no sadness or apology behind it. Youngjae wanted to blame Jinyoung again, still worried about if his motives with them were true. And he angered Jaebum to the point that he had chosen to isolate himself instead of silently pleading to be calmed down. 

Jinyoung snapped a glare directly at Youngjae, too, and he wondered if the doubts were mutual. 

Youngjae didn’t sleep through the night, and he didn’t see Jaebum in the morning before heading to class. When he came back from class with Yugyeom and Bambam, Jaebum was tending to one of Jackson’s kitchen plants. He greeted them as if nothing had happened, a little hurt when he met Youngjae’s gaze. 

The hickey was now only a mere, yellowish stain, and all he could think was that Jaebum was forced to make it heal. He just wanted  _ something  _ with Jaebum that everyone else could see. He didn’t want to own Jaebum, but it would have been nice if the mark stayed just a little longer. 

Youngjae’s mood fell, and he couldn’t bring himself to worry so much about Jaebum, or spiral into questions about Jinyoung. He just pouted and shuffled into his bedroom so he could mourn alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are we having fun tm 
> 
> pls talk to me about jjpgyeom (and toeless footgloves) okay : [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	10. Scene X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previous tags apply pls take them seriously thanks :)

The days blurred together and the weather returned to breezy rainfalls with passing patches of clear blue. The house wasn’t ever full, and the coven had to create shifts because they had calls and jobs coming in, without rest. The borders between the realms were stretching far too thin, and it was obvious there were already too many collapses to repair. Especially because there was no guarantee they would stay fixed for very long. 

Youngjae couldn’t keep track of  _ anyone _ . Even Yugyeom kept disappearing for most of the day, and half the time, Bambam was still a central target, either having been attacked, or calling one of the witches because he found something significantly suspicious, worrying endlessly if he’d ever be okay. There was a day Bambam was so exhausted, simply falling into acceptance, and he announced he was writing an unofficial will in case he never made it back. 

Youngjae wished there was more to do. He needed the coven to try harder, and work smarter. Maybe everything would make sense if they stepped away from the smaller issues, and really took the time to study the pattern. 

Because Yugyeom wasn’t figuring it out. And the spreadsheets of incidents, and everyone trampling in and out in various states of wounded made it hard to concentrate. 

Youngjae stopped trying to find a solution so he could help bring the others up to fighting speed. It was overwhelming at times, but Youngjae learned to stay quiet and keep moving forward. They reached a day where only Mark and Jackson could handle incidents because Jaebum took a hit to save Bambam. The offender was some kind of power-hungry archer, one of Heaven’s ground soldiers that died in battle, but still sought glory. They had a golden bow, the arrows created from pure knowledge from the whole of the universe. And that much knowledge shot into a human was worse than walking around with an IV drip full of straight caffeine. 

Bambam would have become behaviorally unstable, combusting from the inside out while being aware of his actions, without the control to stop it. And the answers of the universe would have literally killed him. 

But for Jaebum, he absorbed it as a horrendous virus. It wasn’t contagious, but it was  _ painful _ . And ugly. 

Mark put Jinyoung in charge of keeping Jaebum alive, and cancelling any magic he accidentally released into the air. 

It was day three of Jaebum’s recovery, and Youngjae closed his textbooks on the dining table to check on his shivering form laying pitifully on the couch. “Hey, hyung,” he said softly. “I’m gonna clean your face, okay?” 

Jaebum grunted and sniffled, moaning from his aching muscles when he carefully laid on his back. There was a bowl of cool water on the floor, and he wrung out the cloth so it would only be damp and not drip over Jaebum’s skin. He gently patted over Jaebum’s forehead, cheeks, and neck, softly wiping where he still had dead skin peeling off. His dark circles had finally lightened into a purple hue, instead of the murky black they had been. 

Youngjae was relieved to see progress. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sit with you? I’m worried, hyung.” 

“He’ll be okay, Youngjae. It just takes time,” Jinyoung returned with a cup of medicinal tea. “What you’ve done has already helped.” He offered a small smile, touching his arm for a brief moment before leaning his head towards the kitchen. “Bammie’s trying to cook everything in the kitchen, if you want to keep him company? Hyung might actually throw up a lung this time after his medicine.” 

Youngjae swallowed his jealousy because the visual made him gag and vomit just a little in his throat. He joined Bambam in the kitchen, absently pleading for him to stop making one-pot meal  _ surprise _ . They’d run out of edible food if he kept going, but Youngjae didn’t have the motivation to simply pull him away from the counters. Because that was all it would take for Bambam to give up and collapse on the questionably clean kitchen floor. 

Youngjae stood facing the living room, slowly eating the snacks before they all disappeared. He didn’t know why he loved torturing himself, but he couldn’t look away from Jinyoung’s careful hand soothing Jaebum, while the other held his medicinal tea. He was whispering, kissing his shoulder and hand as he drank the warm liquid. 

He supported him when he sat up, shushing and coaching him through his coughing fit, the medicine purging the virus out of his system the only way it could. It wasn’t a pretty or romantic sight, but Youngjae still found himself wishing he could be in Jinyoung’s place. 

“Can you stir this for me, hyung? I need to check the fridge.” Bambam slightly startled him. 

Youngjae decided to comply because it would force him to ignore Jinyoung’s and Jaebum’s intimacy. He was probably stirring this melted crayon-texture, chocolate smelling goo a little too vigorously, but he didn’t try to correct himself. He just focused on the sounds his younger friend made while grabbing more ingredients. Bambam placed a hand on his shoulder, and he realized the goo had since turned into a watered down gravy. 

“ _ Okay _ , hyung. You good? I can cook alone, it’s fine. Since both of us  _ aren’t  _ having a nervous breakdown.” 

Youngjae reverted to his original observational position, licking the spoon in case the substance poisoned him. It just tasted sweet and tangy, with a hint of spice, and he was disappointed that it was nothing more than a multi-use sauce and marinade. 

Jinyoung had adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, with his back fully against the couch and legs propped up on the coffee table they had previously moved closer just so everything was within reaching distance. Jaebum still looked weak, but he laid his head in Jinyoung’s lap, arms hugging his waist, and curled the rest of his body up. 

Youngjae only had the spoon to fidget with, fighting through his building bitterness that he wasn’t protected against magic, and that Jinyoung kept pushing him away from Jaebum. He wasn’t being given a  _ single  _ chance to prove his emotional loyalty. Youngjae truly believed what he felt for Jaebum wasn’t just physical attraction or lust, but that’s all the others caught on to. He just wanted to care for Jaebum, to hold him just like Jinyoung was, pet his hair and whisper that everything would be fine. 

Youngjae felt himself cracking, like a rock pounded against a boulder too many times. He ached and longed and  _ hurt _ , and he needed to stop fueling it. He dropped the spoon onto the counter. “I’m tired,” he apathetically stated. “You can sleep with me after the sauce is done.” 

Because if he didn’t have ingredients to cook their usual breakfasts and dinners, Youngjae was probably going to end up snapping at Bambam, too. And the younger always stopped trying to distract himself if he didn’t have to sleep alone. 

He was examining the spoon, turning to show Youngjae. “How did you  _ bend  _ it so much? And why?” 

“Or you can sleep alone.” He didn’t know how he bent the spoon, either, and wanted to avoid searching for a reasonable explanation. 

Bambam shrunk back and just threw the bent, useless spoon into the trash. “We can cuddle and sleep. I’m afraid of having nightmares about that sickness. I’ll be done soon, hyung.” 

Youngjae just pat his head, smiling apologetically before going into his smaller bedroom. He was already in mismatched pajamas, and he stared at the shadows on the ceiling, letting the silence fill his ears like static in a glass cup. He couldn’t erase the burning desperation to kiss Jaebum on the forehead before sleeping, but he didn’t know the argument it would cause with Jinyoung. Or if  _ magic  _ would be used against him. 

He drowned in his own frustration, avoiding screaming at the windows and shifting dust because Bambam joined him on the bed. Bambam didn’t say anything when he cried into his chest. He held him tighter and said he was scared, too. 

It wasn’t fear exactly, but Youngjae took the sentiment to heart, that at least he could lean on Bambam. And it’d be enough to keep him glued together. 

 

~*~

 

Jinyoung forced Jaebum into another shower, rejecting all of his advances for morning kisses until he cleansed himself  _ fully  _ of his poison. Everytime Jaebum whined and groaned, Jinyoung mimicked the sound, both mocking him and responding with sympathy. They stole gentle surface kisses anyway, and left the bathroom in their robes, feeling healthy and refreshed. 

Jinyoung went to brew coffee, but he didn’t see the coffee near the pot or filters. He quickly drew up several plans for murder after remembering Bambam was on a nervous cooking spree, and his goal seemed to be to empty the kitchen of every single loose ingredient, which could have included coffee grounds. With a deep sigh, Jinyoung searched through a cupboard by the fridge and found a new bag of coffee, and closed the cupboard. 

Even as he was measuring it into the filter, he heard small, spaced out taps against the wall beside him. He expected to see Jaebum impatiently or pitifully tapping a finger to get his attention, but when he glanced over, the space was empty. And when he had two mugs of hot coffee, on his way to the living room, he noticed the cupboard door was slightly open. 

“Hyung?” 

“Yeah?” 

Jinyoung tried to choose his words carefully. Even as old as the house was, once they had it back together, it never moved or creaked from gravity and storms. Besides the normal white noise of appliances and footsteps, insistent tapping didn’t happen, and doors opening on their own wasn’t a possibility. He hadn’t ever seen it happen, but he didn’t want to assume anything worse than an odd breeze, or not having closed it tight. 

Jaebum cradled his mug and gestured for Jinyoung to sit down. 

“There’s just too much happening,” Jinyoung blurted. “It’s starting again.  _ Really _ starting.” 

“At least it wasn’t an Angel of Vengeance. Or even just an Angel. That confession of sins would have never ended,” Jaebum said to lighten the mood. 

It didn’t work. Jinyoung’s worries and concerns were being blown wide open, imagining chasing after the soul without Jaebum, and the arguments he’d get into with Jackson about how to lead, how to keep the kids alive and in school and  _ not  _ possessed. 

How to make the house  _ stop  _ thudding and scraping. 

“Anyone check the protection boundary recently? This house is our  _ only  _ line of safety. I don’t even want the ghost of an ant to be able to crawl in.” 

“Jackson did. I kept his muting jewelry  _ far  _ away and told him to restructure it as strong as he could. I’d say it probably affected the entire town, but obviously it didn’t. Should hold the house through the next century, though.” Jaebum gratefully sipped his warm morning beverage. 

Jinyoung was still uneasy, but he enjoyed his coffee before updating his incident logs. 

Over the next day, he added the curious noises to his list, tracking when the thumps and taps happened, hoping it would paint a plausible explanation for what was causing it. But the activity was fairly neutral when he was more or less alone, increasing only when the three younger ones were home. And it was even louder and insistent whenever Jinyoung touched or sat next to Jaebum. 

The quiet tapping and thudding turned into creaks and scratches along the walls and floorboards. There was never a fingerprint or a trace of nail, and everyone was sitting when the boards creaked with invisible footsteps. He even noted who was in the room whenever the activity increased, but even that didn’t connect in any special way. 

There had to be something  _ inside  _ the house, but he had to figure out what it was after before he could banish it safely. 

It only worsened in the morning, and it was a rare occasion where everyone was home, eating together in the living room with one of Yugyeom’s dramas on for background noise. Jaebum and Youngjae were hunkered together on the loveseat, and the other four sat with all their limbs entwined on the couch. Jinyoung didn’t feel like squishing into any of the spaces, so he planned to eat at the island and then hide away in the library for noise isolation. 

Jaebum grabbed his arm before he went into the kitchen. He folded their hands together and held it to his cheek. “You gonna join us?” 

Jinyoung lightly shook his head, and he heard a loud footstep from the end of the hall. “I was just going to sit in the library for awhile.” 

“You okay, hyung,” Youngjae asked Jinyoung with his head on Jaebum’s shoulder. 

“Fine, Jae,” Jinyoung fondly ruffled his hair. “A lot on my mind.” 

“At least eat with us? No one’s hurt right now,” Jaebum persuaded. 

He had a point--enjoy the easy company before all he had was his own. Jinyoung didn’t want to interrupt the physical affection, sighing when he thought he’d sit on the floor. “Okay, hyung. Want anything from the kitchen?” 

Jaebum shook his head, pressing his lips gently to Jinyoung’s knuckles. “Just you.” 

Jinyoung broke into a smile involuntarily and slipped his hand away to cover his laugh. “You’re grossly cheesy, hyung. Almost as bad as Seunie.” 

The couch groaned in unison when the television flickered off, lights briefly dimming with it. Jinyoung immediately tensed, even after everything whirred back on. Mark glanced towards them. “Probably just a power surge. They’ve happened before,” but something in his gaze told Jinyoung he suspected something more. They were reading the same page. 

“Be right back,” Jinyoung said. He knew his voice trembled and sounded unsure, but he retreated to the kitchen. It wasn’t often he used his favorite dishes for eating, but he needed an extra layer of nostalgia and assurance to keep his mind on track. He used a ceramic bowl Jaebum had made for him some years ago when they all took a pottery day class together. Half of it was dipped in deep purple, while the other was an earthy red, colors representing another time and place; a staple of their identities. 

In the beginning he was even afraid to ever use it, keeping it in a display case to admire and fill the air with pure love as he studied it. It took Jaebum pouring soup into it for him to ever eat with it. The bowl survived through countless other meals and a few earthquakes. He filled the bowl with cereal and milk, cradling it with both hands when he returned to the living room. 

Jaebum whispered something to Youngjae, and the younger grumbled tiredly, begrudgingly standing and shifting to sit in Jaebum’s lap. “I don’t want you on the floor,” Jaebum quietly said to Jinyoung and pat the empty space. 

The power surged again. 

Jinyoung ate a couple spoonfuls when he neared the loveseat, setting the bowl just as carefully down on the small side table. He wanted to sit with his legs crossed, and it didn’t feel safe to sit like that while holding his food. He didn’t want to risk spilling anything on the furniture, or losing his balance. 

He ended up having to choose a slightly different position because Jaebum was adamant about keeping an arm around him, holding him close even with his lap full. Jinyoung tried to lean forward just to grab his bowl, but Jaebum would stop him. It was playful and teasing, and Jinyoung was left grinning and playfully tapping his arm, avoiding falling backwards into Youngjae at all costs. 

Jinyoung lightly kicked the end of the loveseat, and amidst their playground flirting, Jinyoung’s bowl crashed to the floor. 

_ Shattered  _ to the floor. 

Milk and cereal soaking into the wood, and chips of purple and red scattered along the site. The room went silent and still. 

Jinyoung couldn’t even  _ fix  _ it. Pieces that badly broken would be unstable, more fit for an artifact museum than a kitchen cupboard. 

Or the trash. 

Jaebum let him up and he demanded Youngjae move off his lap so they could help clean it up. 

But it didn’t take much. 

Mark took action first, setting his empty mug on the floor and working his cleaning magic to suck the milk and cereal into it. He set a towel down and quickly collected the pieces so there wouldn’t be one sliver of ceramic left on the wood. 

Jinyoung was  _ crushed _ . He shut his emotions off for a minute to really process the incident. He kicked the loveseat, but was the vibration really enough to knock such a solid object down?  He hadn’t even placed it on the corner of the side table. 

Mark glanced from Jaebum to Jinyoung. “You want me to glue it together? Might still be able to hold trinkets or daily knick-knacks. Like paper clips and stuff.” 

He didn’t want to demote it like that. There were too many connotations if he did that, and he knew it was better to just let it go. Besides, dead and broken things were meant to stay that way. They weren’t ever right if they were reborn. “I can’t repurpose it like that.” 

“We can go make a new one, Jinyoungie. They do classes every month--” 

“It won’t be  _ this  _ bowl.” Jinyoung picked up the four corners of the towel and followed Mark into the kitchen. He was functioning on automatic and default settings, and he actually dropped the entire towel, and the ceramic shards, into the trash bin. He didn’t bother to fix the mistake because they had a whole drawer of kitchen towels as backup. 

Mark started counting, telling Jinyoung to close his eyes and calm down a little. He didn’t even realize he was trembling, and he jumped when Jaebum’s hand accidentally hit the edge of the counter. Whatever was after him was building up energy too quick for comfort, and he worried it would sever his head next. 

“I think we have a poltergeist.” Mark was brave to uncover it aloud, but he also wasn’t the one at risk. “Jinyoung has a poltergeist.” 

“But Jackson upgraded the protection barriers a few weeks ago. How would it have gotten in?” 

Jinyoung stayed silent, inside his own head, clinging to their hands for dear life. 

“I don’t know  _ how _ , but I’ll find out. Jackson and I will do our thing,” he couldn’t say they would make a trap because the poltergeist would know, and the trap would ultimately fail, “but it won’t be done until tomorrow. Can you get through another night?” Mark’s expression was filled with the memories of other poltergeists they  _ almost  _ didn’t survive, but his confidence and strength was unwavering. 

Jinyoung was still terrified. If the echoing thuds and creaks and footsteps didn’t keep him awake tonight, the illusions and power surges and whispers would. He could defend his aura and block his mind from being invaded, but those were his only tools. And they only had one area in the entire house that could block the poltergeist from getting to him. 

There would be no sounds or tricks or harmful behavior, but Jinyoung thought it better to die in broad moonlight than suffer in blood-curdling silence while dreaming endlessly of his histories, as if they were still his realities. 

“I have to go there,” he stated under his breath. “I  _ can’t  _ go there. Is the library enough? I’ll be okay in there, right?” His body moved on its own into the living room, aiming to continue straight down the left hall. 

Jackson and the three youngest squirmed nervously off the couch, and Jackson was the one to stand in Jinyoung’s way. “Who upset you? What’s wrong, Jinyoung-ah?” 

“I’m fine, I just need time to think, Seunie.” 

“We’re not the House of  _ Bullshit _ , Jinyoung.” Mark addressed Jackson next. “He has a poltergeist and he got lost in his own  _ head  _ and just ran away.” 

Bambam pulled his friends away by their excess tee shirt fabrics. “We’re out! I’m not getting dragged across the floor.” Yugyeom and Youngjae followed him reluctantly, but they let him curl up between them on the couch. 

Jaebum narrowed his eyes and pulled Jinyoung closer, away from the feeling of being closed in. “We have  _ one  _ space that is protected against everything. Is that what you thought of, Jinyoungie?” 

He nodded, hugging Jaebum’s arm and resting his forehead against his shoulder. “I’d rather risk a physical death.” 

The house walls rumbled with the sound of soldiers stomping in unison, seeming to bend and crumble without any effect on the plaster. 

“Even if you sleep alone, it’s absorbed too much energy already.” Mark had to talk around a clinging, horrified Jackson. It had been long enough since they dealt with something this dangerous inside the house, and no one judged the reactions. 

“He won’t sleep alone.” Jaebum took his arm away so he could hug Jinyoung into his chest. “Wherever you sleep, I’ll sleep.” 

Mark went to debate, but almost comically, one of the chairs was thrown into the window, most of the glass shattering and falling beside it on the lawn. Jackson screamed, Jinyoung cowered and covered his ears while Jaebum turned them out of the line of fire. He also heard Youngjae’s booming yelp, and Yugyeom trying to take over damage control with Bambam. 

Luckily no one was hurt, but if Jinyoung stayed here any longer, there was a chance they would be. 

“It destroyed our  _ window _ !” Jackson was panicking. “With a  _ chair _ ?! How does that even make sense?” 

“Probably from the electricity. It built up presence by causing power surges. So we have to do something before it shuts us down and attacks us blind,” Mark said. 

“You said one night?” 

“Hyung, no,  _ please _ ,” Jinyoung heaved with fear and nearly tore his shirt with how hard he was pulling. 

“It’s over tomorrow?” 

“Mark and Gaga guarantee.” 

Jackson whined at his nickname because it meant he knew there was an all-nighter ahead and he couldn’t overrule the guarantee. At this point, it was more of an optimistic plea spoken into the universe to help  _ make  _ it an absolute solution. 

Jaebum tilted Jinyoung’s head so he’d stop hiding. “We’ve slept there alone and survived because that’s what we  _ do _ , Jinyoungie. We do everything to survive so we can  _ fix  _ things. You won’t do that if this thing decides to crush your lungs while you sleep. I’ll be right next to you, and the minute they’re finished, they’ll call us.” 

For the first time in years, his frustration and fear pressure cooked his core, and he wanted to lash out with his fist at the wall, or knee Jaebum and run into the evening night and just yell for the poltergeist, their expelled and banished demons, and the king’s soul to just squeeze the universe back up until the dust and pressure-made diamond left behind couldn’t explode into a new one. 

Their life was already a roller coaster, and they never once forgot what they had survived, and he wasn’t so willing to be placed directly into those memories, watching the past make all the right mistakes and wrong decisions as he yelled at them like a television show he couldn’t stop watching. 

But his rash thinking was wrong, and Jaebum’s rational truth was right. If he was stabbed or suffocated to death from a  _ poltergeist,  _ he wasn’t ever meant to see the real finish line. He wouldn’t fight the final wars with the people he most cared to have breathing and living with him. To not break any bonding promises, he had to choose the poison over the sword, and pray the antidote arrived in time. 

“We’ll get everything cleaned and try to be ready before daybreak, okay?” 

Jinyoung nodded and stepped away from Jaebum so Mark could pet his hair and kiss the corner of his eyes. He was fond of them even when Jinyoung wasn’t smiling with his eye whiskers because Jinyoung always softened with the action. He repeated with certainty they would get them out of the room by daybreak. Jackson was next, squeezing Jinyoung comfortingly and rocking them side to side, lightly scratching his head with something of a blocking spell. It would hardly do anything to save his mind while he dreamt, but Jinyoung held onto the warmth it released over his skin and the calming effect it had on his heart. 

The kids didn’t fully know what was going on, not wanting to eavesdrop and add to the list of nightmare topics, but they comforted Jinyoung, too. Youngjae kissed his cheek and hoped he’d be safe, and he wished he didn’t have to sleep away from them all. Bambam hugged him at the waist, hooking his chin on his shoulder, and nothing more. By now, Bambam knew what it meant to survive the worst circumstances and situations, and words wouldn’t ever be enough to encourage a better outcome. The silent support was refreshing. 

And then there was Yugyeom. Instead of trying to make a joke or play off some banter to lighten the mood and atmosphere, he just wrapped Jinyoung in his arms, steady and strong and told him they would handle it, and just to focus on himself for the night. Jinyoung stayed in his embrace for an embarrassing amount of time, and he understood why Jaebum had cuddled with him before. 

“Listen to them, though. If they tell you to stay away, make sure you do,” Jinyoung warned when they seperated. 

“I will, hyung. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Jinyoung waited to untangle their hands until Jaebum completed his goodnight’s. He was cradling Youngjae’s face, smoothing over his worry and kissing promises into his forehead. The younger pouted, but ultimately sank back into the cushions because there was nothing else he could do. And as Jinyoung exchanged Yugyeom’s touch for Jaebum’s, cups left on the coffee table began to rattle, and they walked faster to the staircase as Mark and Jackson ran to hold the table steady. 

Jaebum held him tight, running up the stairs and passed by the door to his study. On this floor, there was a hidden square door that led to a crawl space, which filtered into a smaller attic room. It was like a storage space, but the only storage in it now was energy. 

Dark energy. 

The house was essentially eating itself alive when they discovered it, the earth underneath a mucky, sticky acid the structure sank into. It wasn’t easy to cleanse, and with how black the poison had become, they had known it wasn’t all going to disappear back where it came from. Or ever realize it was once positive, healing energy. 

They needed a space to bury it where it wouldn’t nourish the earth into a swamp, and wouldn’t escape back into the essence of the house. So they trapped it in this room. It was safe because it was  _ dangerous _ . Anything that came close to it had either shrieked in absolute terror, or was vanquished by it before the day was up. 

But like everything magic, and dark magic especially, there were major mental side effects. It always depended upon what type of person summoned the energy to begin with, or who left it behind, but this one liked to leave its residents in a constant state of grief and regret, replaying their worst moments and expressions of hurt and betrayal. The space never had a balanced temperature, and light didn’t hold very well. So they had to sleep in the dark, and dream up nightmares about the shadows inside.  

Jaebum waited for Jinyoung, and after a few deep breaths, already knowing what he’d see, he opened the small door, and they crawled inside. 

When they finally entered the attic space, Jinyoung remembered he never got the chance to eat dinner. 

 

*

 

The words of the council echoed around him. It was a loop with repeating layers on top of each other.

He was ruled unworthy. He was a traitor, and  _ nameless _ . 

He had everything stolen from him, and as further humiliation in the name of appeasing the realm, they had him tied to a monument in the square for villagers to treat him as they wished. His ankles burned and stung with open wounds, food and magic rotted around him while the weather kept finding ways to scar his skin. His clothes had nearly been cut and torn off, and he survived off what little food and water the errand girl was told to give him. The council were sickly delighted to make Jinyoung suffer as long as possible instead of letting him hang dead. 

He wasn’t the only one targeted, but all he could think about was himself. He was getting desperate and greedy, praying for the pain to stop. He’d melt his own crown if that’s what it took to be set free. He’d unravel his robes, thread by thread, panel by panel. He’d forget royalty colored his blood and loyalty and righteousness made his heart beat. He would be a mindless nobody in the farmlands, first wielding the sword to strip himself of the magic he had left. 

His voice had gone raw with the screams and pleas of a man broken and beaten by a leader he had always stood behind--a leader he had taught from a young physical age to be good and just. He was there when the young king made his first mini-dove out of pure, optimistic and longing energy. 

But his truth and advice now meant nothing. It turned him into a strung up, dry and cracked piece of cheap and counterfeit leather a passerby didn’t think twice about spitting and stepping on. 

And even when Jaebum had enough, cutting him down after fighting a couple guards, Jinyoung  _ refused  _ to go. He asked to be put back up because he wouldn’t be real without his magic; he wouldn’t be useful on the farmlands or be able to live without his sense of justice and longing for neutrality and peace again. He hadn’t taught well enough. He hadn’t placed his conditions down with the right words. He began to think he  _ belonged  _ here. He deserved to be a spectacle and an example for those who were disingenuine and unconfident. 

Jaebum ran through the square with him, anyway, carrying him towards the castle. Towards Jaebum’s room. But other guards had their duty, and Jinyoung was too much of a deadweight for Jaebum to escape properly. The guards weren’t allowed to harm Jaebum, but they spat at his ankles and with strong disdain, called him a mangy, half-blood  _ sewer  _ dog. 

They tore Jaebum away, and Jinyoung’s humiliation sentence in the square began all over again, and now he was left to blame himself for never seeing one of his confidants every again. 

He refused water and food now and then, wanting more than ever to starve his way into the arms of death while screaming for Jaebum, and screaming for himself. 

 

*

 

Jaebum was holding Jinyoung’s hair and patting his back while he heaved and gagged into the toilet. It was more acidic than anything solid, which made it even worse to bear the pain of. When his body rid itself of the toxins, Jaebum held him steady so he could brush his teeth and wash his face with cold water. He was weak, but he believed he was still alive. 

“I tried to wake you up when Jackson came, but you were too deep in it. He helped get you out of the room.” Jaebum told him so he would get his bearings back faster. 

“Were you okay?” Jinyoung immediately worried about Jaebum, too. 

“Yeah, nothing I haven’t adapted to. It was the same thing I always remember.” 

The aftermath, Jinyoung figured. When Jaebum’s instability brought down entire structures within the realm, watching it fall to ruin. Jinyoung held him through several nightmares of those moments. 

He wondered why his moment was one he tried to  _ rarely  _ think about. It was in his timeline of events, and when their lives were intense, he’d think on it so he wouldn’t give the same advice, or choose similar paths, but he didn’t sit there and spiral and blame himself for what happened anymore. 

Jaebum deserved to know where his mind would be for the next few days as he worked back up to that point of forgiving himself. “I saw the square.” 

He lovingly placed his hands on Jinyoung’s cheeks, sliding his fingers into his hair. “Oh, Jinyoungie.” He leaned their foreheads together. “You were being so strong. I shouldn’t have done that. If I just waited a little longer…” 

Jinyoung curled his hand around the back of Jaebum’s neck. “I don’t blame you. Even after reliving it, I can’t blame you, Jaebum. I just…” He had only been worried that they were both dead men, and still being here, touching Jaebum after going through so much--Jinyoung could only be relieved. He shakily inhaled and kissed him, closed-mouth and gentle. 

Jaebum sighed into it and when the intimate moment was over, he hugged him and said they’d have more time after catching the poltergeist. 

Jinyoung felt balanced enough to do whatever Mark and Jackson needed. 

When the poltergeist was finally trapped and cleansed, and sent along to a place it couldn’t return from, Jinyoung and Jaebum sat in a rose bath together, a last ditch effort to wash off the extra dark energy from the room and the poltergeist, and it also gave Jinyoung time to place his nightmare in a locked display case while Jaebum hummed a quiet lullaby. 

 

~*~

 

Yugyeom was desperate for a break, but he only had his room or the library to retreat to, and both reminded him of the puzzles he wasn’t observant enough to solve. He still had two papers to write by the weekend, and his notes to aid in tracking the soul were scattered and chaotic. He could barely make sense of anything, and just surrendered to the fact that he’d either have low grades, or no grades at all. 

So he stood near the left hall, contemplating his crisis as Nora chased her tail and circled around his feet. Her trailing embers were leaving scorch marks on the floorboards, and Yugyeom decided to live with his problems while playing with Nora until she calmed her flames. He picked up one of her rock toys and skipped it down the hall for her to run after. When she reached it, she hunkered down and poked at it with her paws like a regular cat would try to catch a dead mouse. Instead of pushing it back towards Yugyeom, she accidentally kicked it into the wall, and she glanced at him with her round, pouting blue eyes. 

“You have like, a million other fireproof toys,” Yugyeom sighed. “Can’t we just pick another one?” 

She amplified her mew, releasing a soft wave of heat, and Yugyeom was defeated. 

He drank a glass of water and then padded over to where she was staring for her rock to return. But she was staring at a  _ wall _ . 

“Hey Gyeom, you hungry?” Bambam called from around the corner. “Nevermind, actually. Are you  _ okay _ ?” 

Youngjae stood behind him with a grocery bag of snacks. “Are you even Yugyeommie?” 

“I was just trying to play with Nora, but her toy disappeared into the  _ wall _ . She’s whining for it.” 

“That’s him,” Youngjae said, setting the bag down. He held Bambam’s hand and kept whispering for him to just  _ come on _ , and convinced him nothing bad would happen. He shuffled along eventually, but stood between Youngjae and Yugyeom for safety. 

“There has to be a room behind this. I just don’t know how to open it.” Yugyeom danced his fingers along the wall, searching for a weak spot or an invisible knob. Just like the library, he even tried leaning his forehead against it, but nothing happened. 

Bambam squinted and kneeled down to examine the wall. “The color’s slightly off here,” and he touched his hand to the area. He tumbled in, shrieking, when the invisible wall fell away to reveal a perfectly open doorway. He was near enough to Nora’s toy that she tried to pet herself on him for having been the one to get it back for her. It was hot and uncomfortable, and when she finally ran off with the rock in her mouth, his hair was covered in ash and smelled like the tips had burned. 

Yugyeom helped Bambam stand up, and three of them crowded around the opening to observe the new space. It barely had any decor, but it was definitely a room of grandeur. The curtains were long, elegant, deep red, and most of the furniture was made of the same heavy, rich mahogany. There was an antique, freestanding oblong mirror in the corner, set with a rustic gold leaf pattern for the edges. There were oil lamps atop the medium height dresser, candlesticks and candelabras scattered around other furniture. The floor was covered in an old, hand-woven persian rug made of various reds, browns, and golds. 

The room didn’t have any chairs, or a bed, but he saw a wide trunk on the wall opposite of the mirror, and he didn’t want to leave until he found what was inside. 

“Maybe we should just leave it alone,” Youngjae said. 

“What if we let loose a curse? Can we just pay our respects and drink some holy water?” 

“But what if there’s something  _ in  _ here? A missing link, or something the coven forgot they had that might help? I have to check,” Yugyeom squeezed around them to step inside. He froze in the middle of the room, to send his pre-apologies and sorrows into the space, and hoped if there was anything dead inside watching over this like buried treasure, that they understood he wasn’t going to disrespect them, or steal from them. 

He heard Bambam sigh, and Youngjae’s footsteps carefully following behind. Yugyeom continued to the dark, wooden chest, standing, staring, and breathing before he bent down to open it. There were some clothes and shoes, mostly looking like a plethora of loose fabric from they way everything mingled and tangled together. Gently, he picked up the first item. 

It was some kind of sash, muted pale blue with a crest embroidered with silver thread. 

“ _ Whoa _ ,” Bambam exclaimed, and he picked up an item from the chest with excitement. 

“Hey, be careful Bammie,” Yugyeom warned. He didn’t want them to break anything fragile that was literally irreplaceable or couldn’t be magically fixed. 

“What is this  _ made  _ of,” Youngjae said, touching the sash and taking it from Yugyeom’s grip. He rolled it between his fingers and rubbed off some dust before throwing it on over his shoulder. “Does it look cool?” 

This was not what Yugyeom meant when he wanted to find information that would aid in finding the soul. He couldn’t control his friends, and now they were both wearing clothes from the chest like they were stock, mass-produced costumes. Bambam was nearly swallowed by the white and gold robe, clearly made for someone with a slightly wider frame. 

Yugyeom carefully felt over the next set of robes, folded into each other as if they were meant to be one. He meticulously unfolded them, reversing the complex way it was done because he didn’t know what else was hidden within. One of the robes was a deep, royal purple with white accenting. while the other was an earthy, terracotta red, rounded out with a rich and hearty brown. They all had the same crest embroidered into them, and Yugyeom was wary of taking them out of the chest. 

“Aren’t you curious, Gyeom?” Youngjae touched his shoulder. 

“Besides, we’ll get into trouble together. Like we always do.” 

“Punishment only happens if we’re caught, anyway,” Yugyeom hunched more in his dilemma when they all heard the front door swing violently open, and he swore under his breath before slipping into the red robe, just so his friends wouldn’t face wrath alone. But when he put it on, something hit the ground beside his foot with a dull thud. He picked it up and saw it was a ring of jade, violet petals inside with a similar crest engraved on the outside. 

It was the one from his nightmare, with the exact weight and size, and craftsmanship. 

Jaebum entered the room, hissing through his teeth while the other witches yelled after him. 

“Put it  _ back _ ,” he warned. 

“Jaebum,” Mark saying his name alone sounded like a threat. 

Yugyeom couldn’t worry about the commotion so much, not while the ring was in the palm of his hand. The design was a little different than the ones on the robes and sash, but it fit within the same category of simple intricacy. There was an energy bound within that sang in his veins, like his healing geode, but it sank deeper with a terrifying numbness. 

It was kind of like the one time he accidentally touched one of Jackson’s muting accessories. But this had more depth. 

Jaebum wasn’t raging or cursing him, but he was still flagged with caution. 

“Is this a muting ring?” Yugyeom’s hands trembled and he wanted to let the ring go, but he didn’t want the weight of it to disappear. 

“Are they a set?” Youngjae asked, holding another jade ring between his fingers. “Does this have lotus flowers inside? They’re so  _ tiny _ !” 

Jaebum finally tore his eyes away  and stole the rings from his palm and Youngjae’s grasp. “This isn’t your mom’s department store jewelry. Or a fucking Halloween shop. Put it all back.” He tried to force the robe off Yugyeom, but Mark easily pulled him away. 

“You’ll tear it, and I can’t mend it here,” Mark reminded calmly. “They’re wearing the robes, but they aren’t  _ roleplaying  _ with them.” 

“You guys have a  _ crown _ ?” Bambam held the antiqued, luxury item with both hands. 

Jaebum seethed, but now it was Jinyoung holding him back. Jinyoung and Jackson shook their heads at Mark, and Bambam quietly admired the crown. 

Yugyeom was afraid to get close, but he could see the design: gold backing to lay out a string of jewels leading to a six-pointed star on either side of the grand centerpiece, which was a sun sitting atop a crescent moon. They were inlaid with beautiful amethyst and sapphire, a perfect match for the colors of their robes. Youngjae was just as frozen as he was, mesmerized by its artwork, and like Yugyeom, he was probably wondering what it had lived through. 

Yugyeom put an arm around Youngjae’s shoulder for comfort, and he fisted his hands into his shirt, never glancing away until Bambam moved it towards his head. 

“Can I try it? I won’t be crowned king of anything when I’m dead.” 

“Whose crown is it,” Youngjae asked. 

The room went so unnervingly quiet that he could hear the dust particles floating in the air. 

Mark stepped up, taking the crown from Bambam’s hands. “It’s mine. I’ll let you wear it for half a second and then you all fold everything nicely how you found it. Deal?” 

Jackson side-stepped to stand beside Bambam and lean his head on his shoulder like a puppy in need of attention. “You can keep mine on, though. You look cute.” 

“ _ Jackson _ ,” Mark glared at him. 

“They’re  _ mine _ , hyung!” He childishly stuck his tongue out at Mark. “We’ll work something out when he’s not around,” Jackson winked at Bambam and laughed as he left the room. 

Mark grumbled, but he gently set the crown over Bambam’s ash-covered hair. 

“Wow, what should I be king of?”

And then it was taken off his head. “King of getting your ass whooped,” Mark said. “Back into the chest or Jinyoung lets Jaebum loose,” he smirked. 

Bambam sighed, and Youngjae unlatched himself from Yugyeom’s stretched and wrinkled shirt, and in the same order with the same complex folds, they placed the items back into the trunk. The witches followed them out, and the false wall reappeared, Mark shouting for Jackson to come back and lock it up tight. 

Jaebum interrogated them on the living room couch, Yugyeom and his two partners in crime squished so close together they only took up two cushions, and the witch sat on the coffee table facing them. “If you bullshit any of your answers, I won’t hesitate to kick you out and leave you for dead in the haunting hours.” 

“Then just give us a truth potion so there’s no doubt, hyung,” Yugyeom challenged. 

Jaebum clenched his jaw until it cracked, and he continued on. “How did you  _ find  _ it?” 

“Nora lost her rock and kept whining at the wall,” Yugyeom answered. 

“Don’t blame my cat like that. She has a million other toys.” 

Yugyeom huffed and fearlessly met his gaze. “Think I didn’t  _ try _ that?!” 

Youngjae tapped his chest so he’d stand down. “She wanted  _ that  _ toy back, hyung. We didn’t even mean to come across something like that.” 

“Then how did you open it?” He crossed his arms. 

Yugyeom was about to confess, just to protect his friend from having to accept anymore violence hurdled at him, but Bambam was quicker to tell the truth. “Part of the wall was slightly off. Like, color wise.” 

“And your hair?” 

“Nora was too excited we got her rock back. The ash washes out, right?” Bambam panicked for a second. 

Jaebum narrowed his gaze. “Yes,” he slowly answered. “And the chest? Whose bright idea was  _ that _ ?” He only looked at Yugyeom. 

Yugyeom’s mistake and panic built up until he couldn’t say anything, and Youngjae took the fall for him, instead. “Sorry, hyung. I just wanted to know more, and thought there would be something to help Yugyeommie, and you guys.” 

Jaebum tried to erase his anger and disappointment off his face with his hand, and his voice just sounded exhausted. “Rule 1: Nora loses something she temporarily can’t live without, text me and I’ll get it back for her. Rule 2: If this angers her, close her in her fireproof cage. You are not to attempt to open any more hidden doors or reveal false walls. And Rule 3: if by accident, you break Rule 2, don’t fucking  _ touch  _ anything inside. You live here, we still share this space, but as we gave you private rooms, we have our own spaces. Is that clear?” 

Yugyeom didn’t mean to invade their privacy, but the room was his last efforts to find a connection between them and what was happening. And it wasn’t like the individual rooms were entirely their own, as there were things left inside belonging to the coven because there was nowhere else to store them. There were some jackets and bottles in his room that were Jackson’s, and a couple things of Jinyoung’s placed randomly within it.  He wasn’t trying to be defiant. He already knew searching through the chest had been a mistake, but he needed time to breathe through the reckless emotions taking over before he could genuinely agree and apologize. 

“I’m going out,” Yugyeom stood up. Youngjae reached for his hand, but he kept walking away to throw on shoes and a light jacket from the coat rack. 

“I didn’t say we were done. Where are you going?” Jaebum sternly said. 

“Dunno,” Yugyeom shrugged, daring him to try and stop him. “I’ll let you know when I get back.” And he went out the front door. 

 

*

 

Mark cleaned up the bedrooms, and changed all their sheets so he could process everything that happened. There was too much speculation, and he didn’t want to assume anything, but it was getting harder to ignore his suspicions, and he’d regret it if he didn’t eventually talk his way through it. 

So, he caught Jackson joking around with Bambam and Youngjae. 

“Gaga,” he called into the space, and the blonde’s expression immediately fell to worry. “Can we talk?” 

Jackson nodded and followed Mark into his small bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sAID ARE WE HAVING FUN TM 
> 
> anyway it was requested to post early and i have uni soon again so i thought why the hell not make it a double friday post and get everything up before classes so look forward to the last two chapters coming this sunday uwu 
> 
> [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	11. Scene XI

 

Mark didn’t pace, but Jackson did. He was burning tracks into the floor, pausing once in awhile to open his mouth and then groan in loud contemplation as he returned to his pacing. He finally spun around, finger on his chin before then pointing it at Mark. 

“You’re  _ sure _ ?” 

“I already said it was just a suspicion. Not everything aligns.” 

“You’re never wrong.” 

“I was wrong about the Princess of that one flock of robins.” 

Jackson scrunched his nose. “You were ‘wrong’,” he air-quoted, “about how she got here. But you were  _ right  _ that she wanted to turn us all into a wormfood breakfast for her tiny bird children.” He gave his feet a break and sat on the bed beside Mark, drumming his thighs so he didn’t try to manipulate the energy with magic by accident. “He’s just been working so  _ hard  _ to help. I don’t want this to fall apart.” 

“Maybe it won’t. And I’ll keep it between us until I have more pieces, but it’s the only thing that makes sense right now.” 

“I just...you’re sure? That’s how it’s connecting?” His brown puppy eyes were filled with concern and a hurt they’ve known several lifetimes over. 

“That wasn’t his first time seeing that ring. I could  _ tell _ . And when he saw Jinyoung’s crown, it was like he was looking at a ghost. Maybe he doesn’t remember it, but the echo of it is somewhere in there. And we’ve seen the way he looks up to Jaebum. It’s possible he was jealous he wasn’t getting anymore attention, and accidentally let in the poltergeist. Jinyoung spends the most time with him, so maybe that’s why it attached to him.” 

“What about Bammie, then? How could he keep hurting his best friend?” 

“Because maybe it’s not on purpose. Everything he once had control of is searching for  _ him _ , and Bambam happens to get caught in the middle. If he’s starting to remember...if he’s only a little confused, we have time to fix it. Wait for the right time to tell the truth so the cycle doesn’t repeat.” Mark hung his head and fidgeted his hands. “So what happened in our realm doesn’t happen here.” 

“We have to tell Jinyoungie and Jaebum hyung. If it gets out of hand again--” 

“No,” Mark gripped Jackson’s arm. He continued speaking, softer. “No, not yet. Jaebum wouldn’t have it. Even with the debates they’ve gotten into and the trouble he’s caused, Jaebum won’t see it. I need something  _ solid _ .” 

“Will you have time for that?” 

“I fucking hope so. This can’t cave in again.” 

They sat in silence, ruminating over the information and suspicions, searching for other ways the incidents could connect, but they always hit a cement wall. And they didn’t have a wrecking ball to tear it down. 

 

~*~

 

The number of incidents and phone calls were decreasing, but the delicacy and level of handling and healing doubled. Everytime Jackson got hit, it would take him too long to recover, and by the time he was better, it was already time for him to fight something new. Jaebum worked mostly as backup because Mark told him he wasn’t allowed to do missions alone anymore, just for the time being. And Jinyoung tried to be smart about how he fought and what other magics he allowed himself to use. 

Nothing he had worked well enough against a vengeful forest sprite whose home was now a housing development, made of cut and processed wood, manufactured and painted to look uniform. The sprite had covered the development in a black fog, interrupting the building process any time it could. Breaking vehicles and machines, planted termites into the planks. Jinyoung hated the morality of stealing that revenge away, but it wasn’t the construction workers faults and he always knew if vengeful sprites were left to rot in ruin for too long, they’d take the humans with them. 

He had to use one of Jackson’s rune tiles just to track it, but he wasn’t as adept with it as Jackson was, and when he caught up with the sprite, had it cornered at the dead end road, he wasn’t quick enough to protect himself from the sprite’s cloud of anger and wrath. The sprite essentially killed itself before Jinyoung could banish its physical form, but its soul would be locked away in isolation, too confused about what plane of existence it was meant to haunt. 

Jinyoung felt what the sprite felt; sorrow and loss mixed with his own griefs and it rooted in him like a disease, and he had no countermeasure. He barely had enough time to get home, stumbling through the front door and basically crawling into the bathroom, clammy and heaving while the world spun in a fever. 

Youngjae ran in after him for emotional support, yelling for Yugyeom to figure something out. 

“I’m here. I’m here, hyung.” He switched places with Youngjae, holding the hair off his forehead, but Yugyeom had his geode and passed it through his aura, trying to sense where it needed correcting. Jinyoung tried to shake his head, to direct him on what he was doing wrong, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he could only cough and gag. He tried to reverse the energy by placing his hand over Yugyeom’s geode and transfer his poison into it, but it didn’t accept it. 

It only absorbed enough for Jinyoung to stop heaving over the toilet. Youngjae gave him water to rinse his mouth with, and Yugyeom helped walk him over to the couch. They laid pillows behind him so he was propped up and comfortable. 

“Hyung, what attacked you?” Yugyeom asked while covering him with blankets and Youngjae brought a bowl of cold water and a washcloth. 

“Forest sprite. It self destructed.” 

“Oh my god,” Youngjae whispered, gently cleaning his face. 

Yugyeom let the geode rest in Jinyoung’s lap. He inhaled slow and closed his eyes, hands crossed above the stone, trying to reach the energy of the earth. 

But this sickness was created by a guardian of the earth, and even if he didn’t destroy the physical form, he trapped its soul. And that wasn’t forgivable; it wasn’t a wrong within him that needed to be put right. He needed to suffer through it like humans did with severe cases of the flu. Like Jaebum did after his battle with the fallen soldier of Heaven. They were used to it by now, but it didn’t make it any easier to live with. 

“It’s not you,” Jinyoung comforted, laying a hand on his head. “I even tried; it won’t take it.” 

“I’ll try to make something. Just hold onto it, anyway. Just in case.” Yugyeom cradled Jinyoung’s hands around his stone, and Jinyoung nodded his promise. 

He turned the weight of it over and over in his palms, and it wasn’t at all the same piece it was when he first gave it to Yugyeom. Even if he had a harder time using it for its intended purpose, he was clearly infused and interconnected with it. There was a mutual exchange of balance happening, but Jinyoung wasn’t sure what else the stone had been created for. If Yugyeom couldn’t even partially heal with it, he didn’t know  _ what  _ Yugyeom was doing with it. 

Yugyeom came back with a charcoal colored concoction, a bit shaken and clammy himself. “Youngjae hyung, I need you to hold his legs. He might seize off the couch with this.” 

“What the hell did you make,” Youngjae screeched, still moving where he was told. 

“An antidote. Or an antibiotic, I hope.” 

“Does this have actual charcoal in it?” 

“Please, hyung. You can break me or the geode, or both, if this doesn’t work. Trust me, okay?” 

Jinyoung scoffed, but he didn’t have a choice. Given another few minutes, he’d probably be back to vomiting anyway, so the small drink was worth a try. Yugyeom made him keep holding the geode, setting one hand on top to fully cover it, and he poured the shot of medicine into Jinyoung’s mouth with the other. 

The texture was weirdly magnetic and sharp, and rough to swallow. He complained and groaned until the glass was empty. Yugyeom held him protectively as his muscles tensed and stiffened. The effect was slow going, first weighing on his heart and cooling his veins, and for a second he thought he couldn’t breathe. He was suspended in a void, floating between the living room and his quarters in the other realm. 

He survived a poltergeist just so he could die from an antidote. 

“You won’t die,” Yugyeom answered his thoughts. “Focus, okay? The living room is a bit humid, right?” 

He was  _ sweating _ . A bit was not the right description. 

“Your legs are numb, but Youngjae hyung is right there. He’s stretching them and patting them. Can you feel it?” 

Jinyoung tuned everything else out, but all he felt was a dull echo of his skin reacting to the pats. 

“There’s  _ weight  _ in your hands.” Yugyeom lifted them up. “Not just physical weight, but emotional. It has an aura all its own, an existence you’ve called upon before as an extension of your own abilities.” 

He could feel the smooth surface of the moonstone inside the raw amethyst and all at once, his muscles lit up with feeling, a clawing burst of fire escaping his body when he screamed. The world fell away for a moment, and he awoke with Yugyeom shushing and rocking him, petting his hair and telling him he’d be okay. Youngjae was rubbing his legs over the blanket so he had more solid grounding and wouldn’t get lost again. 

“That...fucking  _ hurt _ .” Jinyoung’s throat was just as raw as the amethyst, scratched up and dry and he didn’t want to talk again. 

“Oh my god. Did it work?” Yugyeom cradled and examined his face, leaning close to observe his skin and eye color. how his pupils dilated and moved with his behavior. “You’re  _ alive _ ,” his voice broke into silence. HIs eyes teared up, but he didn’t cry. He just kissed Jinyoung’s forehead and the corner of his lips. He went to speak, but just sighed and pat the top of his head before standing and disappearing into the kitchen. 

“That was terrifying,” Youngjae breathed out, exhausted and curling up around Jinyoung’s legs. 

Yugyeom gave Jinyoung another glass, but it was water, tinged the palest of lilac. “To wash that shit down. You shouldn’t throw it up or you might be worse off than you started.” 

Jinyoung reluctantly took the glass, pouting as he drank the light and bitter liquid.  _ Lavender _ , he scoffed to himself. There was also a mint aftertaste and out of habit, Jinyoung gagged, waving his hand so the other two knew he was fine. Normally, he liked mint, but there was an earthy bite to Jackson’s fresh mint leaves he liked to avoid. 

He chugged the rest of it just to get it over with. 

“I’m not like Jackson hyung,” Yugyeom said, “so I’m not sure how much it cured you.” 

“I don’t feel like throwing up my organs, so that’s a step.” Jinyoung slid his hand up and down Yugyeom’s arm for assurance. “You did your best.” 

“We should let you sleep off the fever. I’ll cook some soup when you wake up, hyung.” Youngjae kissed Jinyoung’s hand and left to scrounge up ingredients for soup in the kitchen. 

“I’ll study in here in case anything happens.” Yugyeom touched him like he would crack and shatter if even a feather tickled him. “Just ask if you need anything.” 

Jinyoung held the geode out for him. “This’ll need cleansing.” When Yugyeom took it, Jinyoung held the back of his head and pulled him in for a small hug, only kissing their cheeks together because he didn’t want to pass the fever on. “Thank you,” he whispered into his ear. 

Yugyeom pat his back and helped him lay down further on the couch. Jinyoung settled in and closed his eyes, drifting in and out of awareness, catching bits of conversations and muted laughter. 

He fully woke up again, mind still blurry and fogged from his increasing fever because the front door swung open and Jaebum was whispering his name in panic. 

“I’m not dying,” he coughed, groaning when he tried to sit up. His muscles ached from the earlier stress, but he knew it could have been worse if Yugyeom hadn’t stepped in. 

Jaebum immediately knelt at his side, holding one of Jinyoung’s hands in both of his. He leaned in and kissed Jinyoung on the cheek, on his jaw, on his lips without any worry of contagions. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Jinyoungie.” 

It was a ridiculous notion that Jaebum even had the  _ chance  _ to help Jinyoung. They were both busy fighting their own creatures of the night, ironically in broad daylight, so if it wasn’t a forest sprite, Jinyoung would have faced something else alone that he couldn’t save himself from. 

Mark stood off to the side, hands on his hips. “Forest sprite got you good.” 

“They banished themselves just as I completed the spell. Things were complex.” Jinyoung focused on keeping his breathing stable. 

Jaebum rewet the washcloth and cooled his cheeks, neck, and forehead. Jackson was also breathing a little heavy, face scrunched in stress and pain, but he still worried over him. “You’d be throwing up, though. Or trying to break your own limbs off.” 

Mark made Jackson sit on the loveseat, empty of Yugyeom who had been there only a few hours ago, and Jaebum off-handedly said, “No bleeding on the furniture.” Mark slapped his head while passing through to grab the right medicines from the left hall. 

“Gyeomie made something. It was  _ foul _ , but it lessened some symptoms.” 

Jackson was taking off his shirt so Mark could apply various ointments and pastes onto his side wound, brimming with toxic magic. “But he’s been  _ shitty  _ at remedies. I tried to teach him so many ways.” 

“He’s been sacrificing grades to keep us alive. Maybe it just finally clicked for him,” Jaebum reasoned. He dabbed the cloth again. “Your fever is  _ really  _ bad. Are you sure he didn’t give you poison?” 

“He wouldn’t, hyung. Just gotta burn it off. Can you call Nora? I might sweat it out faster.” 

“You’ll be uncomfortable.” 

“Uncomfortable for a day, or uncomfortable and coughing and choking and sleeping for a week?” Jinyoung’s eyes rolled closed again, and he couldn’t keep his head up. He leaned into the corner of the couch, and Jaebum sighed. 

He whistled and tutted until Nora came running, dulling her flames as she neared Jaebum and the furniture. “Stay with Jinyoungie the whole night and you’ll get a treat, okay?” 

“No treats! Ever!” Mark objected. 

“He just likes dogs more than cats, Nora, don’t listen to him. Daddy’ll give you the treats.” 

Nora gave a weak roar in response, nudging his hand and easily hopping onto Jinyoung’s lap. She curled up along his thighs, a strong warmth instead of a literal burning fire. 

“You’re despicable. I’m taking your Mark privileges away forever,” Mark punished. 

The room felt lighter, and Jinyoung still ached, but he was thankful for the healing comfort. As far as firecats went, Nora was the most behaved one yet. 

They all fell into welcoming silence, Jaebum wiping the feverish sweat off his face, kissing the cool spots after and lulling him into a deep sleep. 

His fever broke the next day, with his lethargy and sinuses clearing the day after, his muscle aches being the last thing to go. He backtracked the incidents to update his log of events, and he noticed another pattern. Even after another couple weeks went by, it was unchanging. 

Jaebum was now the only one to leave their battlefields unscathed. 

 

~*~

 

After dinner and another round of  _ Fated Romance  _ television, Mark and Jackson made a stern point that Jinyoung was the only one who had to help clean the dishes. They cleared the living room with him anyway, stopping him in the kitchen. He did what he could to soundproof their bubble so the others wouldn't hear them. 

“Good, I needed to talk with you two,” he started. “Hyung is the only one who doesn’t face deadly injuries. That’s weird, right?” 

“Jinyoungie,” Mark said while Jackson held onto his hand, like he already knew what was coming. “The lead isn’t looking good.” 

“We can’t chase after something we’ve already found,” Jackson gripped tighter. 

Jinyoung wanted to be confused, but when he looked out at the living room, everyone cautiously glancing back, the picture seemed too complete. It was the last piece to the puzzle, but Jinyoung didn’t want to place it where it belonged. Not when the puzzle would just be smashed into a billion little cardboard pieces again. 

“But he’s  _ saved  _ us. He’s saved  _ me _ .” 

“We don’t think he remembers. But something triggered when he saw the ring and your crown,” Mark said. 

“And now he’s actively trying to convince the monsters to leave Jaebum hyung alone.  _ Maybe _ . It’s still just guesswork,” Jackson added. 

“Can we reach him? We have to tell him what really happened. He’s too unpredictable if he isn’t on our side. Or he might just start the whole damn cycle over.” Jinyoung leaned his entire weight on Jackson for fear he’d collapse. 

Mark pointed at Jaebum, who raised his eyebrow curiously at the silent accusation. “Jaebum’s it. If he doesn’t believe us, we’re fucked. But all I’ve got are dots connected by dashes.” 

“And he needs the solid, bold lines,” Jinyoung sighed, giving up and hitting his forehead against the counter. 

“Even then he’d ask why we didn’t color it. That’s how deep in he is.” 

He knew Jackson was right. And if they lost this, they’d lose everything. 

Again. 

 

~*~

 

Jaebum took the brunt of the attacks with Mark as backup. Except Mark kept hiding within his shield boundary, using him either as protective cover or as bait. He wasn’t sure which, but it stirred a frustration in his gut that quickly turned to anger after they won and climbed into the car. 

They weren’t even supposed to be paired together, but Jinyoung lifted his rule because there wasn’t another option. And now his gloves were too worn and stretched to face another battle, and he hated the process of creating new ones that would withstand the power he ran through them and absorbed into them. He gripped the steering wheel too hard as he fought with Mark on the way home. 

“Why were you a fucking coward back there?” 

“Okay, no, I’ll choke you as you drive. And two, I  _ told  _ you the attacks would reflect. Shadowpeople are just as powerful during the day as they are at night. Their claws and raw energy never  _ once  _ penetrated deep enough to make you bleed or cower. And do you know what I would have been if I  _ didn’t  _ fight from behind?” 

“Just fine,” Jaebum grit his teeth. 

Mark punched his thigh without mercy. “ _ Dead,  _ you asshole. You would be driving home with nothing but my skeleton while having only yourself to blame. Because our flesh is to them what animal skins are to humans. Leather, luxury rugs, fucking  _ trophies _ , Jaebum. And scavenger predators would eat my organs before you could even  _ blink _ .” 

“I wouldn’t have let that happen and you know it.” 

“That doesn’t fucking matter! You don’t control what happens. The soul and his minions do, and that’s what they want, Jaebum. For you to live and watch us all suffer again. So you  _ have  _ to believe me. I said you wouldn’t get hurt, and you didn’t. Correct or incorrect?” 

Jaebum seethed, clenching his jaw and swallowed his growls before they could rumble his throat. He was only left with a few bruises and minor cuts that would heal on their own in the next couple days, and he had seen Mark nearly get a dark claw ripping through his side. There was a truth to it, but he also couldn’t have his coven--his  _ family _ \--use him like that. Everyone needed to work as equals. 

“Correct. But did you really fight at your best, or did you have the hunch long enough that you gave up a little and knew to use me as your fucking shield? You knew and let me attack alone. Correct or incorrect?” He was aware of his speed and breaking red lights, but he was afraid the car doors would cave in with all the stress he was radiating. 

Mark never answered the question, watching the road just as blankly as he was. He parked unevenly chaotic in the field, further from the house so he’d have to walk off the rage. Mark called after him, but Jaebum just threw the keys as hard as he could at his chest and told him to do whatever the fuck he wanted. And as expected, he drove off. 

He tried to release his anger into the soil with every step he took, but his skin was still hot and his blood demanded peace when he entered through the door. He didn’t feel like letting go, or discarding his gloves to go make new ones. He had no outlet, so he slammed the door shut, and kicked over the side table with all his strength. 

Youngjae appeared from the kitchen, eyes scanning him for a safe point of contact. 

There was no safe point. Nothing about Jaebum was safe and easy, and now he was just a goddamn body of unlimited magic to hide behind. “Jae, I will tear you apart.” 

“You won’t, hyung.” He was a little concerned, but he still walked towards him, stopping at a close enough distance to touch, but still far enough away for an escape. “What did you fight? Are you hurt anywhere?” 

Jaebum curled his hands into fists. “I’m  _ fine _ .” 

Bravely, Youngjae held one of Jaebum’s fists, finding the details of his black glove, rubbing the back of his hand until it uncurled. He brought it to his lips and nestled it against his cheek. “Who upset you, hyung?” 

Jaebum threaded his fingers in Youngjae’s longer strands, already pulling hard enough to make his head tilt. “I’m unstable, Youngjae.” 

He ignored the warnings and reached for Jaebum’s other hand, stretching out the fist and placing it gently over his jawline, letting Jaebum’s fingers splay near his mouth and over his cheek. “So am I.” He blinked slow and heavy, and when he looked at Jaebum again, it was with dark desperation. “But I know what you need.” 

Jaebum mixed his name with a low growl. 

Youngjae stepped closer, kissing the tips of Jaebum’s gloved fingers. “Fuck me like you hate me, hyung.” 

He grabbed Youngjae’s hair in the back, his neck bending with it. “You  _ don’t  _ know what you just asked.” 

“Fuck me until the  _ house  _ collapses if it helps.” He ended the challenge by sucking two of Jaebum’s partially fingers into his mouth. 

Jaebum wanted to be disgusted, to say he’d take the gloves off, that he didn’t approve of defiling work gear, but he couldn’t see past Youngjae and his own rage beating his chest. He let Youngjae be his outlet, letting the moment take over his mind and actions, so he pulled Youngjae by his hair and teeth to the couch, and Youngjae followed without fear. Without saying he changed his mind. 

He bit back as hard as Jaebum gave to him. 

 

*

 

Mark sped and wove his way through traffic, so he could pick everyone up in a timely manner. Yugyeom and Bambam had gone to the bowling alley with a couple friends, but they knew it wasn’t safe to be without one of the coven escorting them. Jackson and Jinyoung were picking out more ingredients for their own loose leaf tea recipes and herbal treatments. Not everything Jackson needed could be grown here, or dried correctly in the energy of their house, so spice and tea shops were his second best friend. 

The youngest two stayed silent in the back bench seat, and Jinyoung joined them to let Jackson sit in the passenger seat. He kept a comforting hand on him the entire drive, and Jinyoung hooked his arms in the middle with Yugyeom and Bambam. 

“It didn’t work?” Jackson asked. 

“It  _ worked _ , but he slid further down the rabbit hole than Alice ever could. I’ve probably already been demoted to an untrustworthy scum of a serving boy. He’s fucking  _ losing  _ himself.” Mark’s voice cracked and quieted, and no one said anything until Bambam asked to stop by the corner store before going home.  

They all assumed he went there to get some space or procrastinate going home, but he just threw a bunch of crackers and snacks into the basket, along with some flavored drinks and a pint of ice cream. “You look like you just had a bad breakup,” Jinyoung teased. 

“I did,” he deadpanned. “I broke up with your bad bullshit. Now I’m celebrating.” 

Mark almost laughed, but he felt the hopeful sincerity of it in the very fibers of his soul. The car was still somber on the way home. 

When Mark parked, Jackson kept re-locking the doors. “We don’t want to go in there.” 

“It’s our house, too. I don’t fucking care.” 

“Mark, no. Really.” 

“This is an abuse of your power, and you know what that means.” 

Jackson defeatedly groaned and the doors unlocked. “Jinyoungie, save the kids. Don’t say I didn’t try.” 

“But we’ve--” Yugyeom began, but Jinyoung slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. 

Mark just hung his head and waited for everyone to climb out before he locked the car back up. He took one of the grocery bags from Bambam and led his troops inside. 

Not only was he hit with the awful tangy stench of sex and sweat, he also couldn’t miss the fact that Jaebum and Youngjae were still going at it against the wall. “Didn’t know we reopened into a fucking  _ whorehouse _ ,” Mark yelled without glancing at them again. “Should I serve you some alcohol?” 

Youngjae’s whines increased in pitch and volume, and Bambam abandoned his bags in the kitchen with Mark, apologizing for needing to hide until they were done. He liked the attention when he was put in the mood, but other than that, Mark noticed he was shy and awkward about it. All of his jokes were just a front. 

“Jinyoung-ah,” Jackson whisper-screamed. 

Mark threw the cold items into the freezer and fridge and left the snacks on the counter because even though he was part of the damage, he was also part of the damage control. 

Jinyoung wasn’t disgusted at all approaching them. He was shocked and horrified by one thing. “You kept the  _ gloves  _ on?” He even pulled Youngjae’s hair so he’d look at him while Jaebum continued to fuck into him. “Was that you? Did you tell him to? Do you even know where those gloves have been?” 

Mark rushed over and untangled his hand from Youngjae’s hair and forced him away until Jackson tugged him into one of the bedrooms. Mark yanked Jaebum’s hair to tear him out of his mindset long enough for him to focus. “When you’re done, we’re talking. And don’t fucking bother running.  _ Coward _ ,” Mark verbally stabbed back. Jaebum hissed and tried to bite his hand off, but Mark sauntered off before he even had the solid chance to. 

He sat in the room with Bambam and Yugyeom, figuring Jackson would be fine handling Jinyoung alone. 

“What the hell is even happening,” Yugyeom tried to soothe the stress by massaging his temples. 

“Everything,” Mark replied as Bambam cuddled around him. 

 

*

 

Jaebum felt caged and trapped. It was three against one because they wouldn’t allow any of the youngests to get involved. Youngjae and Bambam were doing some more practice with his drone, and Yugyeom was probably in the library. And neither were a place he was allowed to escape to. He was in the living room after Mark swiftly cleaned it up because he couldn’t stand how they destroyed it. Even with the public display of fucking, Jaebum had never been more uncomfortable than he was right now.

“You won’t like it, but you need the truth.” Mark led the discussion. “Everything we’ve gone through, everything in Jinyoung’s logs, connect to one person.” 

“We can finally end it, hyung,” Jackson pleaded, “but you have to listen to us. Don’t close yourself. off” 

“Then just fucking tell it to me. If you’ve tracked the soul, we don’t have time to dance around.” 

“Youngjae,” Mark stated just as he stopped talking. 

Jaebum cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?” 

“The king’s soul is inside Youngjae,” he repeated. 

Jaebum scoffed. “No, okay? No. Thanks for the bullshit prank, but I’ll be leaving now.” He got his butt off the couch, and Jinyoung pushed his shoulders until he thudded back down. 

“They’re right, hyung. There were signs before, but something started with the poltergeist. How did it get  _ inside _ ? Whether accidental or purposeful, he summoned it.” 

“You don’t always see how he looks at you, Jaebum. Or his jealousy. For awhile now he hasn’t wanted to share you,” Mark continued. “And when he held the lotus ring? Or when he saw Jinyoung’s crown? It was brief, but he recognized them. And no matter what you think of me now, the Shadow didn’t attack you. It knew you were precious.” 

“Add the hate-fucking while tearing up the living room to the list,” Jackson cringed. 

“With your gloves, Jaebum! Your  _ gloves _ ,” Jinyoung emphasized, arms in the air only to dramatically fall and hit his sides. “That’s like, the ultimate taboo for you! You’ve always been adamant about keeping sex far away from your royal and magic related gear. And you fucked his ass with them on. It’s gross.” 

“You even rarely fuck in the living room. If you do, it’s because it’s a group thing, or it’s with me,” Mark reminded. “You’re completely lost in him.” 

“You’ve only fallen so deep for one person, hyung. Even you can reason that it  _ has  _ to be him. Maybe if you talk to him now, he’ll stay on our side,” Jinyoung said.

“You’re all trying to drink through a broken straw. He hasn’t been your favorite, but we’re not pushing him out like this.” 

“This isn’t about favorites! It’s about fixing things after centuries of not having the right tools.” 

“Is this like, a cliche jealousy thing? You even lashed out when we first kissed on the couch.” 

“He was not the only one hurt and disgusted by that,” Jackson admitted. 

“Are you fighting it because you’re scared,” Jinyoung shot in return. “Scared it’ll happen again? Because it won’t if you take our words seriously.” 

He stood up, dodging Jinyoung’s efforts to keep him on the couch. He slipped his hands into his pocket, fidgeting with the ring he kept inside. “Taking them seriously and believing in them are two vastly different things, love.” 

Jinyoung broke into his personal space, matching their gazes almost nose to nose. “Then believe in them.” 

“You need to back off. It’s not Youngjae, and I’m not gonna sit here while you throw coincidences and speculations at me as evidence.” 

“His shit has nearly  _ killed  _ me, hyung,” Jinyoung spat back. “You going to let him keep hurting us? Stealing Bambam’s  _ mind _ ? Making Seunie so exhausted he can’t even use his rune  _ tattoos _ ? How many attacks will it take, hyung?” 

Jaebum grit his teeth and put his hand around Jinyoung’s throat. “How long did it take for you to plan this story?” 

“Hyung, seriously! This realm will shatter, worse than ours has.” Jackson’s words only stung worse.

Jaebum knew this world couldn’t take that breakage. It would collapse completely, and never come back. Even the invisible portal to their own realm could be destroyed in the process, or it would be the reason for its fall. The outcome was an equal chance. But he refused to think it was Youngjae’s fault. He couldn’t believe he would have been stupid and naive enough to let the soul into his home, and back into his family without stripping away his corruption. 

“Let him go or I break the window into your skull,” Jackson’s voice dropped. 

Jaebum still refused to listen. “Then  _ do  _ it. We’ll all die as traitors.” 

Mark yelled and threw something at Jaebum’s back. “Eat a fucking snickers, Jaebum. You’re not you right now, so let him the fuck go, eat, live in your past for as long as it takes until you find a mirror and fucking understand the power you have  _ now _ .” 

The worst part was, Jinyoung wasn’t even looking at him with contempt. It was with shared, empathetic grief, and he reached up with a trembling hand but Jaebum let him go with force. He turned around to glare at Mark, picking up the actual snickers bar he attacked him with, and stomped down the hall. 

 

~*~

 

Yugyeom was scratching his head with the end of a pen, various books open around his notebook. He didn’t ask Jaebum any details, and Jaebum, in kind, didn’t worry about what he was researching now. The healing geode sat on the floor, perfectly between the fireplace and where Yugyeom was. Jaebum had nothing else to do, so he picked it up. 

He remembered when he was stable, brimming at the edges with every type of magic in existence. He could clean, he could build, manipulate energy, protect and heal. 

He could hurt, and destroy and tear things into dust until they soaked into the ground and ended how they began. Just like his life did. He got lost in the idea that he brought his fate upon himself, and now he fell into blame wondering if he’d let this realm crack and burn up. 

Yugyeom sighed and closed his book, stacking things on the chair before sitting next to Jaebum on the floor. “I can’t concentrate when you’re so loud.” He took the geode, gently placing it on the other side. 

“If I yell, does that make you leave?” 

“I won’t make you talk, hyung.” He pulled at a loose thread on his worn tee. “I just know you’re holding onto a lot of worry. Whatever you’re doubting, it’s okay to spend time before trusting it again or not.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re a witch, too,” he laughed, self-deprecatingly. 

“Too?” 

Jaebum shook his head. 

“I just think I’ve tapped into an unknown defect or something.” 

“What do you mean,” Jaebum questioned. He leaned his back against the bench and peeled open the chocolate, offering Yugyeom half. 

He accepted it. “I probably have that goddamn manual memorized by now, but nothing in it I can do. But, I think I found what I  _ am  _ doing.” He took a bite and swallowed before continuing. “I’m like, a super empath or something. I don’t connect to sicknesses, but I can read the emotions. Or more than that.” 

Yugyeom stretched his legs out, and Jaebum didn’t mind that they were touching his. “Examples?” 

“Well, you, just now. You concentrated doubt, hurt, and concern while you held it. And when Jinyoung hyung was sick, I had him hold it when he took the remedy because I didn’t know how to bring him back around. But he had this burning fear, and I could speak directly to it until he realized the weight of his body and the warmth of the living room.” 

“Sometimes emotions are the only way to heal someone.” Jaebum dragged one of the blankets down and spread it across both their laps. He sought Yugyeom’s hand, and the younger folded them together. “What’s the ‘or more’ part about?” 

Yugyeom hesitated. They both finished their chocolate in silence, and Jaebum laid his head on Yugyeom’s shoulder. 

“I think...I think it was also you.” 

“When?” Jaebum softened his tone. 

“That jade ring, from the chest? It’s yours?” 

Jaebum untangled their hands so he could slide it off his other hand, and he set it in the palm of his hand. “This one? Is that how you knew what it was?” 

Yugyeom asked permission to hold it, and Jaebum trusted him enough with it. “That was just a guess. I once accidentally ended up with Jackson hyung’s jewelry, and like when I first held the geode, I could at least tell it had its own energy. Your ring was similar, but it ran  _ deeper _ . Kind of terrifying, but I like the artistry.” 

“How did you recognize the ring itself?” Jaebum played with Yugyeom’s fingers, the hand not caring for his ring. 

“I don’t want to make you remember anything, or make you feel obligated to explain the details…” 

“Whatever it is, I’ve probably re-lived it five thousand times over.” 

Yugyeom breathed deep, exhaling slow. “The night you fought over the strawberry milk, I accidentally left the geode down here. I chalked the nightmare up to panic and stress, but when I saw the ring, it suddenly wasn’t a nightmare.” He brought the ring closer to his eyes. “It was a memory.” 

Jaebum was intrigued. He resettled to rest his head in Yugyeom’s lap, to observe the faint light coming through the jade as Yugyeom turned it curiously in his fingers, and Jaebum let his free hand stretch comfortably over his chest. 

“I was running down a corridor, desperate to escape these  _ guards _ . But there was nowhere in the bedroom, and I saw this little narrow alcove with a door that led to the bathroom. There wasn’t a way out, but I hoped it’d give me time to form another plan.” 

Jaebum held onto Yugyeom’s wrist because he knew this moment. It wasn’t his worst memory, but it wasn’t the best. 

“And when I looked around, your ring was tucked in the corner on a shelf. They kicked the door open, but that’s when I woke up, panicked and confused.” 

“So you didn’t even see the memory as a whole, but just the worst emotions of it.” 

“God,” Yugyeom sighed, “did you really live that?” Yugyeom slid his gaze down to watch him answer.

“Long story, but yeah. One of the many times I undermined the royal council, and I was worried even the king couldn’t talk his way into freeing me.” 

“What’d you do with the ring?” 

“I meant to fight. Even then, my power still had instabilities. I didn’t want to explode the palace, or hurt myself. In some ways, I was stronger with it.” 

“Did you win?” 

Jaebum chuckled and playfully hit Yugyeom’s chest. “Of course, idiot. Got a six month suspension, where I wasn’t allowed to enter the royal quarters or use my magic, but I lived.” 

Yugyeom fondly smiled, delicately sliding the ring back onto Jaebum’s finger. “Why didn’t you leave it in the chest with your robes?” 

Jaebum curled a little onto his side, his legs stretching beyond Yugyeom’s back under the bench, and he breathed against his stomach. He didn’t answer, but Yugyeom pet his hair and it was obvious he had a guess. He didn’t push it any further, and changed the topic into rambling about how hard he tried to research the ring on his own, and how half of the books in this library, even by witch standards, were completely useless and full of lies. 

Jaebum folded more into Yugyeom, and he accidentally fell asleep to his voice and his fingers in his hair. 

 

*

 

Jackson walked a circle around the library entrance for at least an hour. He needed one of his older recipe books, but he wasn’t sure if Jaebum was calmed down by now, or if he’d hold a grudge and inject him with poison, anyway. Mark was yelling at the screaming plant he watched over for Jackson because he wasn’t supposed to be gone long. 

Jackson sucked up his fear and made to get his book without being seen. He cautiously followed the stairs and snuck into the first aisle way. He scanned the shelves until he found it, an old and tattered red spine with the title in early latin. He tucked it under his arm and tiptoed out of the aisle, but then he came face to face with Yugyeom slumped against the bench, and Jaebum was folded in his lap like a puppy that forgot it had grown into a big dog. 

He screamed. 

He screamed so loud he could hear his plant screaming back and shaking the very core structure of the house. The two woke up with a shock, Yugyeom having hit his head on the edge of the bench and Jaebum peaked over his shoulder with half an eye open. 

“They were  _ right _ ! Jinyoungie tried to tell me about the hickey but I didn’t  _ believe,  _ but now i’ve truly seen it all.” 

Jaebum half-hazardly tossed a decorative pillow at him, but it didn’t even come close to smacking into him. “Let us sleep, or I’ll root the plants into your skull,” he mirrored Jackson’s threat from earlier. 

Honestly, he couldn’t blame him. He did go too far with it, but he was also glad he had calmed down and turned it into something less disastrous. “No dicks in the library, though! This is a sacred space.” Yugyeom threw a  _ book  _ at him, and it hit his thigh. “Ouch! And I thought we were friends.” 

“I have plenty more, hyung.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you lovebirds sleep.” 

Yugyeom aimed another one, and Jackson screamed up the stairs, where his plant was clearly trying to screech out all the windows in the house. 

Jinyoung and Youngjae had ran worriedly into the living room, and Jackson bent down to catch his breath and bubbling laughter. “You were right, Jinyoungie.” 

“About  _ what _ ?” 

“The hickey. It  _ was  _ Yugyeom! Caught them all squished together,” Jackson pressed himself against Jinyoung for emphasis. 

“What’s that infernal screaming?” Youngjae’s expression was a mix between exhaustion and murder. 

Given the dots so far, Jackson worried more about the latter. “I’ll go shut her up. One minute, tops.” 

Jinyoung hit his back to get him to move. “Go. You’ll keep the entire town awake.” 

He ran faster towards his plant, hoping that Mark’s eardrums hadn’t burst yet. Under the chaos, he heard Jinyoung persuading Youngjae to just sleep with him for the night. 

 

*

 

Youngjae stared at the ceiling as Jinyoung dozed off beside him. He thought of how they all gathered without him, speaking in hushed whispers while pointing at him. They tore him down whenever he tried to help, and now Jaebum was hiding away from him. 

Hiding away with Yugyeom. 

The shadows crawling around the house whispered to him. He didn’t think he trusted anyone here, anymore. 

He didn’t belong here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it is friends
> 
> [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


	12. Scene XII

Youngjae lied and said his brother was coming back soon, and he needed to organize the apartment and restock their cabinets. He said he missed Coco, and the smell of his own detergent and sleeping on cheaper bedspreads. Even when Jaebum held him and pleaded for him to stay, he lied to comfort him. He’d find a way to come back, he’d sleep over on the weekends. 

They’d be  _ fine _ . 

He managed to unpack, and numbly shopped for essential foods, but after that, he stayed locked up in his apartment with Coco. 

His phone was long dead and forgotten; he didn’t have the care to attend his classes and run into Yugyeom or Bambam. He didn’t want to hurt Bambam in the process, but he was already closer to the coven than he had been with Youngjae. 

He sat in the middle of his empty living room floor. He wasn’t sure why he left the television playing on a static channel when his mind gave him enough to watch and listen to. 

He could only picture the jade ring, heavy and asking to be worn. He saw the crown decorated with sapphire and amethyst, back when the antique gold was shined and modern. When it was only soiled with betrayal as it was stripped from Jinyoung’s head, his royal name tossed into the same bin. Youngjae only had brief flashes, and intense emotions, but it was enough to put the pieces together. 

They were the ones to hurt  _ him _ . 

The four of them had plotted and whispered behind his back, just like now. They were after his throne, his crown, his name, and his power. They had killed people he knew--people that had kept him protected. The coven always meant to steal what they felt they were owed. 

Jaebum wanted him to stay so they could find a way to claim the power in his soul. 

He would just have to claim their power, instead. This wasn’t a game. It was war. And Youngjae would be prepared to match them, one for one. 

An eye for an eye. A life for a life. 

A soul for a soul. 

He listened to the television static. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 2 [jinyoung voice] S o o n . 
> 
> I just truly wanna thank anto for helping me get this far. it's the largest amount i have ever written--like probs even more words than i've written in my whole life combined bc big stories scare me. and also to the ones who have been reading and commenting and sending things it really means a lot and I'll try hard to get book2 completed within the year and continue this wild trilogy. There's so much you guys don't even know. Good luck with uni too or school and life in general. Until the next updates, as always, pop in here if you'd like <3 [the twt](https://twitter.com/pinkichor) and [the cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkichor)


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